


exactly what is nsfw?

by fictionplagued



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, Chris Evans - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Drabble, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Character of Color, Fluff and Smut, Las Vegas, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Smut, Workplace Relationship, also i should be studying but lets talk chris evans penis instead, also mark sloan from greys inspired this, bisexual oc, im writing fluff and banter to offset my emo ness, inspired by the proposal and mark sloan wrapped in one wild fic, kinda slow burn but not really because i hate slow burn and make everyone fuck in two minutes, lots of banter, oh so much smut, she's the HR consultant and chris likes sex, tbh, wild
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2018-09-22 01:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 66,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9575561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionplagued/pseuds/fictionplagued
Summary: Naz hates her job. Hate might be a bit of a strong word, but she really, truly, uses it anyway. Add in a broken penis, a bearded man, a bottle of tequila and a bird named B. Fugue, and things get... Messy.





	1. the one with the frozen peas I

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys!!! i decided to write a thing, it's been in my docs for a while and i just felt like i should post cause whom ever cares anymore about editing. anyway i hope u enjoy!

_ Click. Click. Click. Click. _

“State your name, first and last, for the record.”

_ Click. Click. Click. Click. _

“Is that really necessary–” 

_ Click.  _ Nazanin stopped pacing around her office, the clicking of her heels silent for a moment. Looking up from her paperwork at the man sitting in front of her desk, she scowled. “ _ No.”  _ She droned, sarcastically. Scoffing, she continued her paperwork. “Obviously. Why would I ask if it wasn't necessary?” 

He shrugged. “Don't know, just thought–”

“Just state your name for the record,  _ please.” _

“Right.” He swallowed, looking hesitantly at the recorder on the desk in front of him. “Christopher Robert Evans.” 

“Good, now,  _ Christopher Robert Evans _ .” Naz grit out. She walked around the desk, heels clicking obnoxiously again. Chris took a deep breath, clearly suppressing a groan. 

She settled on the wall opposite him, leaning back casually, paperwork in hand. “I already tried talking to Legal about whether recording this conversation was really, and genuinely necessary.” 

He nodded, shifting awkwardly in his seat and eyeing the recorder again. 

Naz sighed, continuing. “I asked, practically  _ begged _ for this conversation to not be ingrained in an official record, but unfortunately, not all of us get what we wish for when we wake up in the morning.” There was clear bitterness in her voice and Chris winced.

“All due respect, ma’am–”

_ “Please, don't call me ma'am.” _ She groaned. “This is already dreadful enough and taking many years off my life.” Sure. She had a tendency to be the slightest bit melodramatic. But this  _ situation _ , she had dubbed it, deserved melodrama. 

“I just don't understand how this is an HR issue.” He said.

Naz swallowed, before taking a deep breath. “There are many things you wouldn't expect to be HR issues, Chris. For example, Downey? A mess, makes my job hell. Renner? After he pulled that shit during press and then on Conan? I was knee deep in complaints for a  _ week _ . Didn't expect calling your precious Black Widow a slut would get you so much backlash, but at least you apologized and shut your mouth.” 

He looked like he wanted to disagree, but one stern glare from Nazanin and he closed his mouth. 

“Even your pal Scarlett, I swear to God if she takes another role meant for an Asian woman creating yet again, a hostile work environment–” She took another deep breath, calming herself.

Chris looked like he was going to vomit from the nerves. 

She noted this. “I digress.” Shaking her head she said, “My point is. I didn't expect it from you. I liked you, I really did. I thought, Evans? Pure. Makes my job easy, doesn't make me want to throw my laptop out that fucking window.” 

“I'm really sorry about all this,” He started again, swallowing down the evident hoarseness in his voice. “But I genuinely don't think that this is an HR issue.” 

“Do you know what I thought when I woke up this morning, Chris?” Naz continued, swiftly ignoring Chris. She knew now it was time Chris was beginning to regret  _ many _ things, including walking into her office door this morning and not just speaking to legal directly. “I thought, wow. I'm gonna have an easy day at work. Shooting is going well, I've had no complaints thus far, everyone's getting along, no one’s saying they love anal sex on national television–”

“I  _ am _ sorry–” 

“I waltzed into work today.” She flailed her arms for apparent emphasis. “Waltzed! Fucking  _ waltzed!  _ And what did I get hit with? Tell me, who decided to barge into my office in fucking tears?”

He was getting clammy again. “Jeanine…”

Naz cut him off again. “Jeanine Kingsley. That's right. I had no idea who she was before today, actually. Thought she was cute so I’ve been calling her Belle. You know, the pretty, petite, brunette? Fits. Anyway, that's correct! Jeanine Kingsley. And what does Jeanine Kingsley say to me, Christopher?”

He looked like he was going to vomit,  _ again _ , but she heard him mumble something.

“I can't hear you, Chris, and unfortunately neither can the recorder.”

He tried again “She  _ said–” _

“‘I broke Chris Evans’s  _ penis!’” _

Chris winced, clutching the bag of frozen peas closer to his crotch. 

“On fucking Marvel property.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Now, tell me, Christopher. How the fuck isn't this an HR issue.” 

She whipped around, stalking back to the front of the desk. “Do you need to replace the fucking bag of frozen peas.” She asked, his grip on the plastic raw.

“That would be nice.”

“Fuckin’ idiot.” Naz muttered, quiet enough the recorder didn't pick it up, before stalking out of the office into the staff room. 

_ Click. Click. Click. Click.  _


	2. the one with the stretched truth, nothing but the truth, but a little lie

She threw the bag of frozen peas down on his lap. 

“Thanks.” He grit out. His poor red face made her roll her eyes. She felt bad for the guy, really. She was still pissed of course, because she truly hated the fact everyone decided to disregard the no-fraternizing policy on set, but  _ everyone _ did it. And to his luck, and hers, this idiot was the only one to have broken his goddamn penis and caused a  _ noticeable _ mess.

“Sorry.” She said with a purse of her lips. “This really just is not the way I wanted to be spending my long weekend. Filing paperwork about your snapped penis.”

Chris winced. “Word choice.”

She shot him another pitiful look and bit her lip. “Right. Sorry… Again.” Clearing her throat she sat down behind the desk. “Let’s get this shit done with then.” Naz scrolled her eyes down the papers in front of her. “I’m going to ask you a series of questions, alright?” 

“Alright.”

“Was the sex between you and Jeanine consensual--”

“Of course!” He jumped, disgusted she would even insinuate otherwise. 

“Just need to get that on record. Now, was the…” She tapped her pen to her lip, desperate to find the right word. “Was the ‘roughness’ of this sex, consensual?”

Chris swallowed back a groan, going red again. “Yes.”

“Listen…” She paused. Shaking her head, she reached beside her and turned off the recording. “What the fuck happened.” 

Chris sighed. “How much detail do I need to go into?”

“For me, I don’t care, for the record, enough to make clear what happened and why.”

“Just turn the damn thing on then, I don’t want to have to go through it twice.”

Naz clicked record again. “Alright, so what happened exactly that led to this… Injury.”

“We were having sex--” He started.

Naz cut him off again, sighing. “I need context. Unfortunately. Are you dating, how often, etc.”

Chris exhaled heavily. “Me and Jeanine fuck occasionally. Can I say fuck?”

“Yes.” She replied with a groan. “How often is occasionally and have all these occasions been on set?”

“Six times including this time.” He paused. Naz widened her eyes, before he could speak again she raised her hand silently. She paused the recording device  _ again _ .

“Please answer the next half of the question with  _ me _ in mind… Please. I really don’t like… Paperwork.” She clenched her teeth. Chris nodded knowingly and after a silent agreement over worried glares, Naz pressed record.

“And uh… No. The other times weren’t on set. Her car once, my car a couple times, and a bar washroom.” He lied easily. 

Naz breathed out in relief. “Awesome. Okay. So this was a mutual arrangement, now if you could explain the situation that transpired and led to the injury in question.”

“Well we were fucking and uh, she was on top, and I guess she just… shifted positions too rough? And…” He was so fucking red. “I knew something went wrong then, but she probably mistook my groan for pleasure cause we do rough shit all the time. But my… penis... slipped out and her ass was not in the best position and she sort of… Tried to grind down and…” He gestured to his peas. “This happened.”

“Chris just gestured to his broken penis.” She said for the recorder. He snorted “Have the doctor’s cleared you?”

“Yeah, they say it should heal just fine. They wrapped it and said I need to ice it.” 

“You’ll regain full function?”

“Should be up and kickin’ in less than four weeks.”

Naz snorted at his choice of words.“Uh huh. And do you know how Jeanine is?”

“She visited me in the hospital, was pretty shook up but I told her it wasn’t a big deal. Told her it was probably best not to continue… Fucking.”

“Right. So you have no intention to sue, comment on or file a complaint against Marvel Cinematic Universe for workplace damages resulting in a  _ severe _ injury?”

“Nope.”

“And any and all injuries that were sustained as a result of this misconduct on set will be settled with an outside insurance provider?”

“Misconduct? Am I gonna have a record with Marvel or something?” He scoffed.

“We simply keep everything on file.”

“Catch me fucking something else and what? No token shields for me to keep? Throw me in The Raft prison?”

Naz raised an eyebrow. It was becoming a natural response around him. “You plan on fucking some _ thing _ on set?” She said with curious concern.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Sorry. Painkillers have me a little fucked up. I meant someone." He saw the concerned look on her face and said a little louder into the recorder "That was a _joke_ ” 

“Should we answer these questions when you’re in a better state?”

“No. I’d rather not have to relive this experience. To answer your questions: No, I won’t sue, and yes my personal insurance is covering my broken… Bone.”

“Alrighty then that's perfect.”

“Perfect?” He said incredulously.

“Not the broken penis thing. The suing thing.”

“Is the recorder off? I'm really so close to hurling from embarrassment.”

“Yeah it's off.” 

Chris stretched out and groaned. “Thank fuck.” Standing up slowly, he lifted the bag of peas and awkwardly looked around. “I’m pretty sure my ride’s here. What should I do with the peas…”

Naz sighed. “Just keep them. I have no idea why someone put frozen peas in the staff freezer and I have no intention of finding out why and returning it with the disclaimer it has your crotch sweat on it.”

He pursed his lips. “Right. I’d shake your hand but…”

“Peas.”

“Yeah.”

“Take care, Chris.”

“I really am sorry.”

She snorted. “I’m sure you are.” 

With an awkward wave, Chris was out the door. 

Naz leaned back in her arm chair and sighed. Toeing her heels off she tried to relax, but was rudely interrupted by her phone.

“Nazanin Dubey.” 

“Miss Dubey? Hi. We have a lube problem.”

“Are you fucking kidding me--”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading n leaving comments!!!!! they motivate me to write faster so pls continue i hope u enjoy <3333  
> leoofcouleur.tumblr.com


	3. the one with the cockatoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been a while m'guys i had a shit show with this chapter, but it's finally done!! comments help motivate me to write faster <333 thanks for reading

_ Thump. Thump Thump. ThumpThumpThumpThump. Thump. _

Naz couldn’t tell if the incessant thumping was coming from the pool outside or her head. It fucking ached. Sunlight streamed through the window, a thin beam hitting her right in the eyes. She groaned, pulling the hotel covers over her head and digging her face into her pillow.

With the nasty aftertaste of alcohol lingering in her mouth and the massive pounding in her temples she concluded she was hungover. 

Her memory certainly  _ wouldn’t _ be able to attest to that fact. Or it would. Seeing as she had absolutely zero recollection of the night prior except for the empty bottle of tequila lying on the floor that jogged a vague memory of her taking shots off of someone’s abs... 

An arm flung over from the other side of the bed, with peculiar aim, the hand attached landed on her naked breast.

She heard a groan. 

Rolling her eyes she wondered why her bed guest hadn’t ditched before she woke up. Apparently they had just woke up too. How inconvenient. Shifting her position she turned to face them. 

She was greeted with a gruff, “Morning” followed by an “Oh  _ fuck.” _

Naz had to hold in a shriek. Canvassing the naked body next to her and then her own, there was no denying what obviously transpired the night prior.

“How much paperwork is this gonna give you.” Chris mumbled. 

Oh  _ fuck _ was right.

**_2 days earlier._ **

“Naz… Naaaaaaz… Nazzy. Naz!”

“Huh-- What?” Naz’s head snapped up from resting ever so peacefully on the the bar counter. 

“You were sleeping. It's 6pm. Are you okay?” 

Her sister, Kira was happily sipping a piña colada, eyeing Naz as she snoozed on the not-so-clean bar counter.

“Sorry.” Naz stretched out, groaning, and feeling all her joints creak. “I feel like I'm literally fucking forty. Fell asleep on a stack of paperwork and woke up to Fugue pecking my head.”

“I don't understand why you don't put that thing in a cage.” Kira said with a raised brow. She gestured to the waiter. “Could I get another piña colada? Thanks.”

“Make that two.” Naz mumbled.

“I thought you were being healthy.”

“I’ll make it up in kale tomorrow. And no I’m not putting him in a cage.” She added, shooting her sister a disgusted glare.

“You sure your landlord’s okay with that?”

“What he doesn't know won't hurt him. Fugue’s harmless.” 

Kira scoffed, nudging the claw marks on Naz’s arm.

“He got a timeout for that.” 

“Mhm.”

“ _ Anyway,”  _ She cleared her throat and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “As I was saying before you decided to criminalize my cockatoo, I've been knee deep in fucking paperwork for weeks, I'm going to die, Kira.” 

“Oooooooh” Kira said, with a little too much excitement. “What's the deal now? I love Marvel gossip.” 

Naz sighed. “Promise to keep this on the DL?” 

Kira looked taken aback at the idea she would do otherwise. “I might not be cool, thirty and fucking actors like you, but I won't leak, Nazzy. Gimme some credit.” She said. snarkily. 

“Firstly, stop calling me Nazzy. Secondly, I’ve fucked one--” Naz sipped her drink, holding out one finger for emphasis. “ _ One  _ actor.” 

“Right. I should’ve included actresses too.”

“Okay.  _ Two _ .” 

“Yeah, yeah, now spill.”

“Okay.” Naz looked around inconspicuously to make sure no one was listening, then lowered her voice. “So first there was a small dispute over the representation of this one extra, then Chris Evans broke his penis,” Kira choked on her drink here, but Naz ignored her, continuing “-and then a truckload of lube, yes a  _ truckload _ of KY Jelly, crashed into--”

“Hold on! Hold  _ on,  _ Naz!” Kira coughed, “Rewind. Chris Evans  _ broke _ his penis!?”

“Louder, Kira.  _ Louder _ . Do it. Get me fucking fired.” Naz hissed. 

“Right! Sorry.” 

“Yeah,”Naz said nonchalantly, “but is that really the most interesting thing here? Did you hear me? A  _ literal _ truck of  _ lube _ crashed into an empty backlot where they were holding really important set pieces so just picture this: Stark tower, right, like all the sciency artifacts in Tony’s lab?  _ Covered _ in lube--”

“Yeah, yeah, hilarious,” Kira waved Naz off. “How the fuck did Chris break his penis?” 

“You’re really a bitch you know that? You're not even listening to the good part. Why do I hang out with you.”

“Because I’m your sister and you love me.”

“No.”

“Because I’m the only family you've got in Cali?”

“No.” 

Kira rolled her eyes. “Because I’m just such a catch?”

“Mhm.” Naz echoed. “God, I need friends.” 

“You're just never going to tell me what happened to Chris, are you?”

“Debated it but now I don’t want to.”

“Whyyyyy.”

“Feed your obsession? No way.” 

Kira slumped back in her seat. “Why dangle it. Ugh.” 

Naz snorted. “Dangle.” 

“You're awful! Just tell me!” 

“No. I feel weird.” 

“You didn't feel weird five seconds ago when I didn't show any particular interest in Break Mcdicko.” 

“It's his penis. I should respect his privacy.”

Kira scoffed. “Since when do you care?”

“It's feels weird gossiping over it.”

“You feel weird about talking about a client’s penis?  _ Broken _ penis?  _ Hot _ client? My bullshit threshold’s had enough today.”

“ _ Employee _ . Marvel’s my ‘client’. Marvel doesn't have a penis.” 

Kira quirked an eyebrow. “Client, employee, whatever. You know, if i was more apt to understanding emotions of people I would say you have a thing for--” She waved her hand around trying to put her finger on his name. Apparently the alcohol was starting to set it. “Snapped Dangle.” Kira settled for. 

“Are you seven?”

“I'm tipsy, gimme a break. So. Is that why you suddenly respect his privacy? You have feeeeeeeeeeeelings.” 

“No.” Naz said, her voice monotone.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Absolutely, positively nothing?” Kira insisted.

“Nothing, he hasn’t even been to work since he broke his dick. Came in looking like a guilty puppy three weeks ago to give me his adjusted schedule.”

“Don’t call him a guilty puppy. I would let that man raw me.” Kira said, bluntly.

“Good for you.”

“At least tell me  _ how _ .” 

“How what?”

“How he broke his dick.”

Naz impatiently checked her watch. “How do you think? He was fucking someone, or she was fucking him I guess and she sat or it wrong or something and it snapped.”

“Yikes!” Kira said happily. 

“You're cold.” Naz said.

“You laughed too.”

Naz snorted. “Between swearing at him and chucking a frozen bag of peas at his dick you're right.”

“That reminds me, I need to get some shopping done this weekend, wanna come?” Kira asked.

“Where in that sentence did I remind you you wanted to go shopping?” 

“Peas. Vegetables. Groceries. Shopping.” She said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and Naz was the one who had had one too many piña coladas.

Naz rolled her eyes. “You’re bizarre. Can't though. I have Meenal’s thing this weekend. Flight’s at eight tomorrow.” 

“Meenal’s thing? What thing! No wait! I don't care. You didn't tell me how broken penis gave you paperwork?” 

“Something about getting to know the wedding party. Getaway, get together in Vegas. Something like that. I have no fucking idea, to be quite honest.” She tossed back the last of her drink. “And cause they fucked on set.”

“Oh.” It seemed Kira was no longer interested in Chris. “Why wasn't I invited.” She pouted.

“Because you’re 25 and still say things like snapped dangle. And you aren't a bridesmaid.” 

Kira opened her mouth to argue, but paused, pursed her lips and settled back in her seat with an annoyed look on her face.

-

Naz was not the biggest fan of flying. She could tolerate it over a four hour drive, that was for sure, but she would much rather risk her odds with the Titanic than spend another second in the airtight, cozy, sweat vacuum that was the plane cabin. 

The flight itself was fine.  _ Fine _ was becoming the only way she was able to describe anything lately. 

Like when Fugue’s sitter, and her friend, Geneva had a ‘family emergency’ leaving Naz frantic at six in the morning, with a suitcase over one shoulder and Fugue on the other. Naturally, she called Kira, and after a good ten minutes of begging and bargaining, Fugue was happily perched on Kira’s head. 

Naz told her to call in case she needed anything, but definitely didn't expect her to call so fast.

“He won't shut up.” Kira complained.

“Kira, I’m kinda busy.” Naz huffed, she pulled her bag out of the taxi trunk and gave the driver a tight smile.

“So? How do I make him shut up.”

Naz sighed, turning into the hotel lobby. “He likes playing with the thing with feathers. The one stick with the bells.”

“I hate you. You owe me.”

“I definitely do.” Naz said with a roll of her eyes. She heard Fugue squawk on the other line. “Bye, Kira.”

“Fugue! Get off there now--”

Naz shook her head as the line went dead. Making her way through the lobby she finally took a moment to look around, taking in her surroundings.

In typical Vegas fashion it was a casino and hotel, but obviously cost Meenal a good amount. The Roman-esque theme combined with the fact the hotel was five-stars gave Naz the impression that this was going to be the much needed spoiling she had been desperately in due of for weeks. 

She saw Meenal near the front desk and made her way over. 

“Naz! I'm so glad you could make it.” Meenal smiled, giving Naz a hug. Meenal was ridiculously tall so she towered over Naz. “So, we’ve booked a bunch of rooms on the eighth and ninth floor, but it’s such an obscure weekend to make it out here we’ve basically capitalized on the whole hotel. Here’s your key, where's Kira?” 

“Kira? She wasn't invited?” Naz raised an eyebrow.

“No? I told Max to invite her. Max!” She called back at her fiancé.

Max was busy talking to some tall guy in the corner. 

“Anyway,” Meenal continued. “Yeah she’s not part of the wedding party but she’s always with us and she’s a good time.” She smiled.

Naz scoffed. “Don't tell her you said that. Anyway, fancy fucking place. How the hell did you afford this shit?” She said, eyeing the open ceiling of the lobby.

“Oh, one of Max’s groomsmen has connections. Actually, you know him, not sure if you know him personally, but he works with Marvel maybe it’s the same branch you're at right now. I’m pretty sure he's over there talking to Max. Max, baby--” 

Max turned back as Naz was checking her phone again. Kira was going crazy, 15 text messages within the last five minutes the last of which read:

_ he's eating everything! everything!!!!!!! when does he stop!!!!!! _

“Hey, Naz!” Max smiled. “Oh, this is--” 

Naz looked up. 

Holy shit. “Chris.” Naz swallowed.

Chris Evans, penis and all, was here, too.

“Small world.” 

And it took every ounce of self restraint in Naz’s body not to let her eyes divert to said dick.


	4. the one with the slippery floor, the fucked ass and the towel-- or lack thereof

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i finished this before i even started a paper due tomorrow so,,, that's where my priorities are at. hope you enjoy!!! comments make me happy Happy HaPPy!! thanks for reading <3

“Shit, fucking shit  _ fuck _ . How did this  _ happen?!”  _ Naz scrambled, trying to find her clothes. 

Chris stayed sitting upright on the bed, rubbing his temples. “Too much tequila.”

“Where the fuck are my panties--” She had packed more but the ones she had worn last night were her favourite, she remembered  _ that _ much.

Chris looked around. “Here.” He said, holding up the tiny strip of lace between his fingers. Naz snatched it. “Calm down, tiger.” He chuckled.

“Calm down?  _ Calm down?” _

“We got drunk. We’re in Vegas. How much do you really have to disclose?”

He had a point. Naz wouldn’t admit it but he was right. “I can’t find my bra either.”

Chris snorted. “Why are you covering your tit like I didn’t see it in full display last night?”

Naz looked down and dropped the hand that was covering one breast. “Right.” 

**_1 day earlier._ **

“Hold the elevator!”

Naz looked up. Seeing Chris rushing up to the elevator she rolled her eyes, reluctantly holding it.

“Thanks- Oh hey.”

“Hi.”

After the awkward encounter with Max and Meenal, Naz had excused herself to the washroom. There really wasn’t anything immensely awkward about the situation, honestly. Truly, they were just colleagues. But the fact their only interactions had revolved around his penis and included Nazanin giving him a fucking lecture, didn’t help the whole  _ surprise, let’s get to know each other in Vegas _ thing. They stood in awkward silence for a good minute.

“What floor…” he started. Naz snapped out of her daze.  _ She  _ was the idiot who hadn't pressed the floor number.

“Uh. Eight.”

“Cool, same.”  _ Cool _

The elevator hummed, slowing inching up. She took a deep breath, staring straight in front of her. 

_ One. _

“So uh, how do you know Meenal?” Naz asked.

“Through Max. We know each other from back in Boston.” 

“Cool.”

_ Two.  _ Naz tapped her foot impatiently on the floor.

“How do you know Meenal?” He asked.

“Went to the same kickboxing class together few years ago in downtown L.A.”

“Kickboxing, huh?” Chris smiled. “Sounds like a fun time. That’s cool.”

Too much fucking cool. 

_ Three _ .

“Yeah it was coo--convenient.” If anyone said cool one more time.

“Oh?”

Naz thought quickly. “The timing for the class. Was convenient. How slow is this fucking elevator?”

“Pretty slow.”

“Oh. I said that out loud.” Naz was a moron. That, she knew.

“You did.”

_ Four. _

“How's the penis?”

Chris pursed his lips. 

_ Five _ .

“I meant to say that one out loud. Might as well get the elephant out of the room.” 

“Good. Well, not  _ good,  _ but better. It's fully healed. Apparently.”

“Haven’t tested it out yet?”

“Regrettably, no.” 

Naz snorted. 

_ Six. _

“So... the weather.” He said with a chuckle.

_ Seven _ .

“Funny. Been weirdly--”

“Cool?” He suggested with a smirk.

“Shut up.” She laughed.

The elevator dinged, after what seemed like twenty-seven years and change. 

“This is us.” He said, stepping out.

“So you have connections here?”

“Yeah, I stay here a lot so. Thought it’d be nice for Max and Meenal. And of course the rest of us.”

“That’s sweet of you.” Naz said, stopping in front of her room door. Chris stopped next to her.

“It’s really nothing.”

“Well.” She said awkwardly. “This is my room.”

“Same.” He said, pointed at the door next to her. 

Fuck. Of course. If she had to suffer one more moment of this tortuous awkwardness masked through forced conversation she was going to-- “Right.” She said. “D, E.”

“What?”

“Dubey, Evans.” 

“Oh. Right.” Everyone is right, everything is cool.

“Well. See ya.” Unlocking the door she entered the suite. 

It took about a fifteen seconds for Naz to enter the room, and set down her bags before she looked up and, to her surprise and annoyance, saw a fucking door connecting both the rooms. She bit back a melodramatic groan of _why can’t I be left alone,_ _do I really deserve this?_

Chris had barked a laugh when he saw it, half hearted, humoured by the irony. Looking through the doorway into Naz’s room he shook his head. “I’m just gonna. Shut this.” He said. 

“Oh, yep.”

“Just shout if you  _ need _ anything.” He added. 

She knew it was petty but she couldn't stop herself.

“Like more paperwork?”

He gave her a forced, sarcastic smile.

“I’ll knock if I need a lecture.” 

Naz bit her lip. “Don’t jack off too loud. Or forcefully. I hear your penis breaks easy.”

“Ouch. Cold.”

“Bye, Chris.”

And with the click of the door, she was alone.

_ Finally _ .

“When do we meet everyone for dinner?” Chris hollered from the other side of the door, the noise of him rummaging through his bag loud enough for Naz to pick up.

“Six o’clock.”

“Thank you!” He said pleasantly. 

“Yep.”

This was going to be a long three days.

\--

After a nap and catching up on some TV, Naz realized Kira had been weirdly silent. She shot her a text, making sure everything was A-Ok back in L.A. with Fugue. To be honest, she was more worried for Kira’s sake than Fugue’s, the bird could take care of himself. However, she withheld both her knowledge that Kira  _ had  _ in fact been invited, and how Chris was part of the wedding party, from her sister. She figured that was best. 

Chris had knocked about an hour ago asking if he should head down to the lobby to see if anyone could come up and lock the door connecting their two rooms, but Naz shook her head. They were both adults, she had said,  _ there's a door and we have brains.  _

Finally deciding it was time to treat herself, She ordered up a bottle of red wine and headed to the bathroom where she was pleased to find a jacuzzi. A nice soak in the tub was well deserved after the month she’d had. 

She stripped, piled her clothes in a ball and tucking them in a corner the counter and sunk into the tub. She placed her phone down on the counter as well, figuring Kira would be okay for at least another hour.

There was something so peaceful about knowing she had no obligation and no fucking paperwork for three full days. The warm water felt heavenly on her skin and she could practically  _ see _ her stress evaporate with the steam. 

So what if Chris was here? He didn't have to ruin anything.

Quite honestly, Naz was still deciding why he irked her so much. 

Maybe it was the penis thing, maybe it was the “I thought you'd know better” mom thing, or maybe he was just too pretty. So pretty it annoyed her. 

So pretty with his stupid long lashes and his beard that was trimmed ever so nicely, his stupid raspberry lips and his fucking muscles… 

She closed her eyes, a hand naturally slipping down between her legs, if she could just picture it like they were his…

Her phone rang obnoxiously and her hand jolted away from herself as she shot upright and shook her head, splashing water out of the jacuzzi.  _ What the fuck was that.  _

She hadn't just. There was no way she was going to go through with… Oh my god she almost jacked off to the thought of Chris Evans,  _ when he was in the next fucking room. _

Oh my god she almost jacked off to the thought of Chris Evans in  _ general. _

Who the fuck was she?  _ Kira? _

She shuddered at the thought, shaking herself and sighing that it was fine, a moment of weakness, she was tired,  _ anything _ really. Her phone was still going ballistic on the counter.

Scrambling, she stepped out of the tub right onto the puddle she had created.

And after an extremely elegant flail, she flung the nonsense stacked on top of the toilet and along the sides of the jacuzzi, into oblivion, and landed on her ass, hard, and with a loud clatter.

She huffed, swearing under her breath, hoping to god no one heard her shriek as she went down, banging her wrist on the tub behind her as she tried to stop her fall.

She tried to shift her position and get up but she was really stuck. Ass in pain and wrist throbbing, there was no way she really saw out of this. 

To die naked, wet and in Vegas.

Her immediate mind went to hoping Chris hadn't heard. 

He was a nuisance.

A pretty nuisance.

But a nuisance nonetheless and she would've much rather lay there her bare, bruised ass on on the cold sopping tile, than call him for help.

However, much to her surprise, combined with the irony the man was fucking Captain America, she heard a knock.

“Naz? Is everything okay? I heard a crash and then a yelp…” 

“It's fine!” She lifted her arm up, trying to stabilize herself, knocking over the remaining upright shampoo bottles. They banged against the floor loudly, again, making her point seem validly false.

“Okay. I can get Meenal or something?” He suggested.

“No, it's fine.” Meenal was a loudmouth. Yes, Naz was a clumsy fuck, but she also had a pride the size of Canada. 

“You sure?”

“Said it's  _ fine _ , Chris.” She practically growled.

“Okay.” She heard his footsteps retreat just as she tried to lift herself up, but the painful tug in wrist and ass, prevented her from doing so. 

She groaned. 

“Chris. Wait.” 

“Yeah?”

“Fuck’s sakes.” 

She heard a chuckle.

“I slipped when I was coming out of the tub. Landed on my ass funny and I think I fucked up my wrist.”

“Oh, shit.” She heard him grasp the doorknob.

“No! Wait!”

“Sorry, what do you need?”

“Just. I’m stark ass naked.”

“I won't look.”

“How the fuck are you supposed to help me if you don't look.”

“Right.”

“Okay, the towels are by the light switch. Can you come in, backwards, throw me one, and the help me up.” 

“Alright.” 

He opened the door, leaning carefully so he could grab the towel he tossed it at her. 

“Tell me when I can look.”

“Now’s fine.”

He turned, and Naz could see he was holding back a chuckle when he saw her splayed out with the towel  _ just _ large enough to cover both her nips and her pussy, but there was another look that followed which he cleared his throat for.

“Don't laugh.” She grumbled. “I'm stuck.” 

“What's the problem?” 

“I'm lying, naked on a hotel floor, stuck, with a fucked ass and wrist, asking for help from a man whom I've had two conversations with, one that included his broken penis and legal action.” 

Chris gave her a smile. “I  _ meant _ how can I help. Thanks for the recap though, very insightful. Also, curious use of ‘fucked ass.’” 

“Not your kind of fucked ass Mr. I Love Fucking Girls In The Butt.” 

He quirked an eyebrow. “Right.”

“Just help me up.” She flailed her good arm.

Maneuvering around the puddles he made his way over to her. He grasped her hand, but as she was coming up Naz realized she had given him the arm that was holding up the towel, seeing as the other arm was out of order. The towel fell and she twisted frantically trying to grab it before her tit fell out. 

“Hey, hey, I gotcha, don't worry.” 

His arm had come around the small of her back, stabilizing her from slipping again, and his other was holding the towel up and over her breasts. 

There were moments in Naz’s life where she felt time really stopped for a second. It was corny, cheesy, stupid and overused but she really had those moments. Where everything in the background glossed over and there was a freeze frame, zooming in on every detail of that moment. The first time Kira said her name--mind you anyone would've been taken aback after countless baby screams of ‘Naaaaaaaaaaa!’ when tiny toothless Kira finally caught onto the Z--, the first time she smoked pot, her parents renewing their vows, graduating from university, meeting Fugue, her first orgasm, her seventeenth orgasm--first courtesy of a woman--, seeing a gorgeous sunrise.

Chris holding her up, naked and stunned, was definitely one of them. Her breath caught. He was really fucking pretty close up. She could practically see every hair and freckle on his face, flecks of grey in his hair and the crinkles of his eyes.

“Better?” He said softly. His breath fanned over her face. He smelled like mint toothpaste and laundry detergent. 

She balanced herself, pushing off him gently. Clearing her throat she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Uh. Yep. You can uh… let go now.”

“Oh, right, sorry.” 

He let go of the towel, and it dropped to the floor.

“Didn't mean the towel.” 


	5. the one with tongue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been a minute my guys but im back with these fools!! tragically, no fugue in this chapter, i know he is my favourite to write. Chris is ok too. comments help motivate me to write faster <3 thanks for reading!!!

“What time are we supposed to meet everyone?” Chris asked, finally getting out of bed. He was stark naked, and Naz looked away, feeling her face flush. 

His dick sure  _ looked _ healed, and by the soreness of her hips she figured it probably felt healed too. Not that she would remember.

Naz checked the clock. “Fifteen minutes.”

There was a sharp rap on the door.

“Naz? Have you seen Chris? He isn’t answering his phone.” It was Max. 

Naz shot Chris a glare that said  _ don’t say a word or I will murder you. _

He had bent down to pull his boxers on and made his way to the washroom.

“Uh, no Max, but I’m pretty sure he went for a run.” 

Naz turned around, trying to gather her things. She caught her reflection in the mirror and shrieked. 

Chris came running out of the bathroom, to find Naz, finger pointed at her neck where a massive hickey had formed. “What are you, a  _ leech!?” _ She hissed.

Chris pursed his lips. “Oh. Oh, dear that’s a big one.”

**_15 hours earlier._ **

The ballroom wasn’t packed. It was big, spacious, high ceilings and those obnoxious ice sculptures every second foot. The Roman theme continued, pillars and curtains detailed with gold. There was a buffet on one side and a quaint little bar tucked into the other corner. Despite it not being too crowded, there was still a small buzz of people, a mix of both those from the wedding party and other hotel guests. 

Naz met up with some of the other members, her friends, or acquaintances, she supposed, as they hadn’t really spoken in months. There was Jay and Nicole whom she remembered, though vaguely, from another party years back. Meenal’s sisters, one of which Naz had checked in with regarding her little bathroom injury. Max’s sister and brother in law were also there, alongside a few others Naz didn’t recognize. She stayed within her comfort zone for the most part, before feeling a bit obligated to spread out and mingle. So she did, chatting away with most people. Chris arrived a quarter after six. He had changed from his earlier plain sweater and jeans to a henley and a cardigan. He looked good, though Naz didn’t let her eyes linger too long. He saw her, gave a small wave from across the room, to which she returned a smile. They hadn’t spoken since the naked situation. She continued to make casual conversation with the others, but there seemed to be a recurring theme that emerged in conversation now that Chris had arrived.

“Yeah, Chris and I headed up to Big Sur last summer!”

“Oh you’re with Marvel? Chris is too!”

“One time I got piss drunk at Chris’s and came stumbling out of his room with his shield and cap cowl.”

“Wasn’t it so sweet of Chris to do this for M&M?”

_ ChrisChrisChrisChrisChris.  _

Excusing herself from the incessant conversation, Naz headed to the bar. She needed a drink. Bad.

“Long Island Iced Tea, thanks.”

“Long Island?” Said a familiar voice behind her. “Pegged you as the Cosmo type.”

“Hello, Chris.” She said, her voice annoyed, leaning against the bar.

“I’ll have another one of these.” He said, lifting his empty beer bottle.

“‘Cosmo type?’” Naz raised an eyebrow. “What's that supposed to mean?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Dunno.”

“You saying I can't hold my liquor or I’m la-di-da?”

“Whichever you prefer.”

She scoffed. “Pegged you as the beer type of guy, that's for sure.” 

“Really, and what's that supposed to mean?” He echoed.

“You want the honest answer or the sexy answer?”

He tilted his head, thinking for a moment. “Honest is sexy.”

“Good response.” Naz praised. “Beer tastes like vomit and you evidently have shitty judgement.” She sipped her drink. “And I'm always honest.”

“ _ I _ have shitty judgement.” He smirked. He was always smirking, she noted. Either smirking or quirking his eyebrow up like he found everything she said to be perpetually amusing. It irked her.

“Right, I  _ totally _ meant that in the pleasant sense.” She snarked. How he took everything as a compliment was beyond her.

“How's the ass?” He said abruptly.

Naz choked a little on her drink. “Fine.”

“You should teach me how I can improve my judgement.”

“I slipped and fell outside of the bathtub and  _ bruised _ my ass. You fucked an extra and broke your penis. Broke it. Snapped it in half. I read the medical report.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but instead laughed. “Touché.”

“Why aren’t your socializing?” Naz asked. “You seem to be the talk of the town. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were getting married, not Max or Meenal.”

“Does that bother you?”   
“No.”

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” He said with a smirk.

“What gave me away?”

“The bitch glare.”

Naz rolled her eyes. “It’s resting.”

He hummed in agreement. “I thought you liked me.”

“Before you broke your dick?” 

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t.” She said bluntly.

Chris shook his head. “What? You said you did.”

Naz chuckled, sipping her drink. “My sister’s a little obsessed with you, maybe I just liked the idealized version I hear from her.”

“What do I have to do to get back in your good books?”

“Mm. I dunno. I don’t think I have good books. Neutral or hate ones, however, I have plenty.”

“Even after the bathtub ordeal?”

“We don't have to talk about that.”

“How  _ is _ the ass, by the way?”

“Fine. Just bruised, I got Meenal’s sister to check it out. Wrist is fine too, she thinks I just twisted it funny in the moment.” 

“Right. She’s the doctor?”

“Yeah. And she’s discreet.”

“So you’re cool with me knowing, and not one of your closest friends?” He was referring to her turning down his request to get Meenal.

It was a valid question. Naz thought for a moment. “Meenal has a big mouth. Comes with the territory.”

“Opera singer. Right.” He smiled. “And me? I’m in your hate-book but don’t seem like a big mouth?” He took this moment to conveniently wrap his lips around the beer bottle top to take a swig.

“You seem… Respectful.”

“I do?” He raised a brow. “I’ll take it, alright. You’ve called me worse.”

“In any case, if you decided to tell the world about my quite literal slip up, I have blackmail.” She shrugged.

“Makes sense. I can’t believe you have zero shit on Meenal though?”

“I do, I guess. But she’s very shameless. Doesn’t do much.”

“And you’re not?”

“I’d like to be. Pride gets in the way, I’m a Leo.”

He was amused by this. “That explains  _ so _ much.”

“Fuck off.” She said, a the hint of a laugh behind her tone.

“That's good, though. Glad it was nothing serious.” He leaned his arm against the bar counter. His muscle bulged. Naz hadn’t noticed till now but the henley he was wearing was obviously at least a size too small. She could see every flex.  _ Every _ . He had also shed the cardigan he had on earlier and his sleeves were rolled up. She swallowed.

“Christ.” She muttered. “You're a fucking tank.”

Chris looked a little shook by the random comment. He blushed and looked away, shaking his head. “Ha, ha.” He said with an eye roll.

“Shut up. Do you not have eyes? Your bicep is the size of my head.”

“You have a small head.”

Naz’s arched eyebrow went up further.

Chris snorted. “With a big brain.” He added quickly.

She smiled genuinely, for the first time all evening.

“Woah! Did I do that? You have teeth? No way.”

“Anyway,” She smirked, looking away so he wouldn’t see her blush. “You gonna try out those mechanics with a partner soon? I'd like to close the Mark Sloan case.”

“Mark Sloan case?” He asked.

“You ever seen Grey’s Anatomy?”

“Here and there.”

“He gets his penis broken during sex. Exactly like you.”

“Keep yelling broken penis a little  _ louder _ won't you, tiger?” He said, through a breathy laugh. Conveniently a bunch of people had walked by the bar as Naz said penis and they gave Chris a curious look.

“Sorry.” She said half heartedly. 

“No.” He answered, sipping his beer. “To answer your question. I don't have any imminent plans to test out the mechanics  _ with _ anyone. Though for all intents and purposes. It's good. Functioning. Does it matter if it was done on Marvel property though?” 

“Wonderful, things I can check off from my bucket list: Chris Evans insinuating he's jacked off on set.” 

He playfully nudged Naz. 

“Just for you I didn't. Kept the paperwork in mind. Imagine  _ that _ going wrong.” 

“I’d imagine it's been a hot minute since you've needed to do that  _ yourself _ .”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Whore.”

“Proudly.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“I don’t hate you either.”

Smiling, she looked up and around the room. She choked on her drink when she saw who was across the room. “Fuck!”

“What? You okay?”

Naz took a deep breath. “My fuckin’ ex is here. Why the fuck--”

“Where?” Chris asked, craning his neck to scan the room.

“Right over there.”

“What? But there's just a bunch women over there– Oh.”

“Quick--” Naz hastened, placing her drink on the counter and tugging at Chris’s Henley. “Make out with me.”

“Huh?”

“Now! Now. Make out with me now.”

“I'm not understanding.” The concept of bisexuality was going over Chris’s head. “If she's your ex-- Oh! Gotcha.”

Naz could practically hear the gears click. 

“Amazing, now that we’ve established I'm bisexual just make out with me for fucks sake-- oh  _ fuck _ she's coming over here.”

Chris leaned in, an arm wrapping possessively around the small of Naz’s back as he pulled her flush against his body and kissed her. 

To say he was very good would’ve been the understatement of the century. Naz had kissed people. Many people. She was almost thirty so her kissing experience was thorough. But the contrast of the roughness of his beard against her skin and the softness of his lips she couldn’t compare the warm feeling in the pit of her stomach to anything she had ever experienced before. Except maybe a tub of cookie dough ice cream and an orgasm. He tasted like mint toothpaste and the remnants of his beer, and typically she hated beer, she really did, but he felt like heaven so she could look past it.

Kira was definitely going to hear about how he was taking this task very seriously.

“Nazanin?”

There she was. The  _ Ex _ . Calling Naz by her full name like she still had  _ that _ right.

Chris didn’t seem bothered, a growl rose from his throat when Naz bit his lip and she moaned obnoxiously into his mouth.

Naz placed her hand on his chest, pushing him off playfully. “Baby, we’re in public,” She said in a sickly sweet voice. Plastering her fakest smile on she turned. “Oh my God, Rosalie,” Two can play  _ The Full-Name Game _ “I didn’t even see you there.” 

Chris dropped his head, chuckling. 

“Chris, this is Rosalie.”

“Hi.” She outstretched her hand and shook his, a smile that could match Naz’s in Fake Level was on his face. 

“How have you been?” Naz asked.

“Great. I’m here with my girlfriend, Kaitlyn. She’s just grabbing some food. How about you?”

“Great!” Naz said, too enthusiastically. Here for Meenal’s wedding party getaway.”

“Oh wow, Max finally proposed! And Chris here?” She eyed him up and down. 

“Just here to hype up my baby.” He flashed a disgustingly charming smile, the arm around Naz’s waist rubbing affectionately. “You know. Fiancé duties.” 

Naz cocked an eyebrow but kept her smile on. Thinking quickly she raised her hand. “Which reminds me, sweetheart, did you drop off the ring to get resized?”

“Yes I did, baby.”

“Wow, congratulations.” Rosalie said, half-heartedly.

“Well, it was nice seeing you.” Naz said. “Tell Kimball I hope I run into her sometime!”

“Kaylee, angel.” Chris corrected.

“Kaitlyn.” Rosalie said.

“Oh.” 

“See you.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, Naz squirmed out of Chris’s grasp. She tucked her hair behind her ear, looking away from him and trying to compose herself. She really didn’t know what compelled her to be so fucking enthusiastic. She was always a petty person, and Rosalie brought out the worst of that. But Chris? He took that job immensely well. Too well...

Speechless, she downed the last of her drink.

Chris smirked. “You’re welcome.  _ Natalie _ . _ ” _

“Shut up, Clive.”

Chris laughed, slow and easy. Naz looked up to see his face. His cheeks were flushed pink and he had a bit of her lipstick on his lips. 

“You've got a little…” She tapped her lip. 

“Oh.” He wiped his sleeve across his lips. “Good?” 

“Good.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment until Chris cleared his throat. 

“Well, uh, I'm gonna get back over there before people start, uh. Asking questions.”

“Right.” Naz agreed, too quickly. “For sure.” 

“I’ll, uh, see you? We’re going out tonight right?”

“Sorry?” 

“Like, all of us. Casino then clubbing.” 

“Oh yeah, totally.”

“Cool.” He made a face at his choice of word. Giving Naz a tight smile he turned around.

Naz swallowed. This shouldn't be this fucking weird. “Hey, Chris?” She called out after him.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for that.” 

He flashed her that disgustingly charming smile. “No problem, sweetheart.” 

Naz bit her lip to keep from smiling. She really didn't want to talk about how her stomach knotted hearing him call her  _ sweetheart _ . 

“So,” She turned to the bartender. “I'm gonna need a shot of tequila.” Her eyes wandered to Chris, arms crossed and throwing his head back, laughing. “You know what? Scratch that. I'm gonna need like seven.” 


	6. the one where naz does not, in fact, compose music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have finals,,,, and im writing chris evans fanfic. this is my life. hope u enjoy!!! oh also beginning is a bit nsfw so you've been warned

_**The night before.** _

_**2:30 AM.** _

“Oh, _God,”_

“You gonna come, baby? Come all over my mouth?”

_“Yes, yes, yes, fuck. Don't stop– Oh fuck!”_

_**11:00 PM.** _

The club was packed. It was a Friday night, so that made sense, but it became immediately apparent to Naz that the concept of clubbing was significantly more appealing than the act. She much preferred getting drunk with her friends in a toned-down setting. Being almost thirty, she really couldn’t believe how accurate it was that she would rather stay at home or at the hotel having nice conversation with a bottle of tequila, over sweaty grinding with a bunch of people in their early and mid-twenties.

Or maybe it wasn’t actually a universal age thing. She was probably just a 50 year old lady at heart. Kira had insinuated that enough.

The bass thumped loudly. Everything was loud. From the people to the music everything was in obvious overdrive of sweat and bodies. Loud and sweaty. Her favourite mix.

The group, there was about twelve of them, entered the club and clung around each other pretty well. Meenal actually floated away from Max for once, long enough to mingle and actually talk at her own getaway.

And then there was Chris. Still in the henley but now paired with a blazer. His hair was slicked back, disgustingly well, and he had trimmed his beard.

So Naz ordered a shot and danced, and on some level really did hope he had noticed her ass in the dress she was wearing.

There had been a whole ordeal about it, so it better have paid off.

_**9:30 PM.** _

Naz had stared at her suitcase back at the hotel. For a good five minutes she had scrutinized it, glaring, wishing that somehow it would fabricate a new outfit out of thin air. She had narrowed down the dresses she had brought, but unfortunately Naz had decided to be practical when she packed for this trip. The weekend was supposed to be chilly, so she packed plenty of sweaters and jeans, conveniently leaving the low-cut tops she owned at home. She had affectionately dubbed them her “man-snatching” shirts, and was thoroughly disappointed she hadn’t even brought one.

Stupid.

“Where's your mascara?” Meenal had asked, striding into Naz’s room.

“Gucci pouch.”

Meenal’s phone went off. She raised an eyebrow at the display. “Hey, Ki-- Kyle.” She had said.

Naz looked over, curious.

“Oh, okay. Well, yeah. Sure. Of course. I mean… Closet? Yeah. Alright. Good luck. Sure. Thanks, bye.”

“That was a bizarre conversation.” Naz had noted.

“Yeah, anyway. Lipstick?”

“Bag.”

“Eyeliner--”

“Did you bring shit all to your _own_ get together, Meenal?” Naz had asked, still glaring at her suitcase.

“Come on guys, we’re late.” Nicole knocked on Naz’s hotel door. “Everyone's waiting in the lobby.”

“Give us a minute!” Meenal shouted back. “Aren’t you going to get dressed or do you expect if you stare at your clothes long enough they’ll do that for you?”

“I need a boob dress.” Naz had said, abruptly.

“Sorry?”

Naz looked up at Meenal, who was cocking a brow. “A boob dress.”

“A boob dress?”

“You know!” Naz sighed, exasperated. “I need a dress that makes my boobs look great.”

Meenal had thought for a second. “I actually might have something.”

“And it won’t drown me?” Naz asked, taking into consideration Meenal’s height.

“Gimme a minute.”

And with that, Meenal left the room, leaving the door open, where Nicole eyed Naz, still in her jeans. “Why.”

“I need a boob dress.”

“Of course you do.”

Meenal returned quickly, tossing Naz the ‘boob dress’; a rose coloured, velvet bodycon with a plunging neckline that impressively made not only Naz’s boobs look phenomenal, but also accented her ass. “You did good, Meenal.” Naz had said. Meenal bitterly rolled her eyes. The dress had been a gift, but whoever bought it seriously underestimated Meenal’s height. So the dress hung pleasantly just above Naz’s knees.

Meenal didn’t ask why all of a sudden Naz needed a boob dress, so Naz was thrilled to not have to explain she was beginning her five step plan of seducing Chris Evans.

Quite frankly, it wasn’t like she was about to admit that was her motivation to _herself_ either.

However, she did wish that someone knew about her plot and how well it was working when she finally made it down to the lobby and saw the way Chris’s brows raised at her ass. The man was the furthest thing from subtle.

Naz supposed the name should be changed to “the ass dress.”

_**11:30 PM.** _

Effective as it was, she still needed to keep him behind her as she danced, but she was definitely going to need more tequila if she planned on loosening up any more. She headed over to the bar, what was becoming her natural habitat.

“Hey,” Nicole, one of Meenal's friends, joined her at the bar. “You're not dancing?”

Naz looked up. She had been staring at Chris, grinding away against a random brunette. It was friendly, the dancing, nothing out of the ordinary, but Naz felt her stomach knot. “Need a couple more shots to get into it more.” She explained, clearing her throat. “I promise I’m not always this uptight.”

“Work?”

“Yeah, fuck. You have no idea.” Her eyes began drifting away, eyeing Chris as he laughed with the brunette.

Nicole smiled. “I get that.” She turned to look at Naz and saw her looking out across the dance floor. Following her eyeline, Nicole cleared her throat. “Listen…”

“Hm?”

“So you have a thing for Chris...” She stated.

“Huh? What?” Naz shook her head. “No.”

Nicole pursed her lips. “Uh huh.”

“What!” Naz said. She looked back at him but it was more instinctual than by choice.

“You're staring. Quite obviously.”

“He's an… interesting dancer. What's that crotch grabbing move?”

Nicole cocked an eyebrow. “Sure.”

“There's nothing going on with me and Chris.”

“Yeah,” Nicole scoffed.

“I’m serious!”

“You're mentally undressing him.”

“I am not.”

“I don't blame you, he's a fine piece of ass.”

Naz set her clutch down on the bar, exasperated. “Cut the foreplay. What's up?”

“We’re close, me and Chris. And I can tell he has a thing for you.”

Naz made a face. “We’ve known each other two minutes. And he seems to be getting pretty cozy with that brunette over there.”

“Where?”

“Over--” Naz scanned the crowd. Chris had left the brunette and now was hanging out with Jay, Max and Brandon. He saw her looking at him and gave a small wave.

Naz looked away immediately.

“I’m just saying it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. You two.” Nicole said, noticing Chris and waving back.

“Uh huh. How do you know he has a thing for me?”

Nicole shrugged. “I know Chris.”

“He's a pretty naturally flirtatious guy.” Naz countered.

“That's true, but he flirts differently with women he's into.”

“Are you into him?” Naz asked, curiously. She didn’t mean for it to come off sounding so _high school._

“I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Naz laughed. “Well, shit. Fuck me for assuming.”

“Don't worry about it. Everyone does it, at least you're conscious.”

“Yeah, I guess. But I should know better, I mean, I’m bi.”

Nicole looked surprised. “Definitely did not see that coming.”

Naz cocked an eyebrow. “Assuming is shitty.”

“Absolutely.”

At that moment, Meenal came rushing up to Nicole and Naz. “You guys aren't doing shit. Come dance! Naz, Jay’s been asking about you.”

“Apparently _everyone_ has.” Naz snorted.

“I think you two would be cute.” Nicole said.

“Who? Me and Jay? Now you’re just fucking with me.” Naz said.

“Yeah, I agree.” Chimed in Meenal.

Jay was cute, there was no denying. He was currently dancing near Chris. Naz kept her gaze on Jay, though. She didn't need Nicole on her ass for lingering on Chris again.

“You just think me and Jay would be cute cause we’re both bi and brown.” Naz scoffed.

“No,” said Nicole. “I think you'd be cute cause you'd both let Chris in your ass.”

Naz choked on her drink. “I hate you.”

“What, Nazzy? You don't think I noticed you two making out at the buffet?” Meenal asked.

Nicole laughed. “It was pretty obvious.”

“My ex showed up. Alright? No big deal. We’re friends, I guess. Besides, we work together.”

“Oh so you can just make out with him in Vegas? That's in your contract?” Nicole said.

“Fuck off.”

“Whatever.” Meenal said. “Nicole, you don’t know Naz that well so I’ll let you in on a secret: She’s stubborn as fuck and trying to set her up with anyone never works, even if they look like George Clooney.”

“George Clooney’s alright, and that guy you set me up with was obsessed with himself. Now, if you have an Amal Clooney hidden away for me, I will be significantly more thrilled.”

Nicole nodded in agreement.

“Sounds like a plan. Now, come on! Let's dance.” Meenal insisted.

“I hate this shit.” Naz said. “Why did I agree to come clubbing? You guys know I’d rather sit around like an old lady with a book and Fugue.”

“Oh, speaking of, I take it everything's okay with him then?” Nicole asked.

Naz shook her head. “With who?”

“Fugue?”

“My bird?”

“Yeah? I heard Meenal on the phone earlier? He was lost?”

Naz was seeing red. She whipped around, glaring at Meenal. Despite the low lighting, Meenal knew she was caught.

_“Kira lost Fugue!?”_

“Listen, Naz,” Meenal said calmly, giving Nicole a deathly stare from over Naz’s shoulder. “That's why Kira called me, she just wanted to make sure you weren't worried and she has everything under control. I wouldn't worry yet--”

“Yet? _Yet!?_ What the fuck did she do with my fucking cockatoo!? _It's been a fucking day!”_

“I'm sure she’ll find him!” Nicole tried.

“Oh my God that’s who you were on the phone with in my room!” Naz shrieked.

“Honestly, Naz I’m sure it’ll be _fine_.” Meenal tried again.

“I can’t… Fuck, I’m sorry guys. I need to get back to the hotel.”   
She knew Kira was stupid, but this was excessive. Naz needed to get out of there.

_**12:00 AM.** _

Squeezing through bodies she rushed out of the club, but someone caught her arm.

Naturally, it was Chris.

“Hey, is everything okay? I saw you rush out of there.” He asked, breathless.

“It's fine, Chris. I just-- I need to get back to the hotel. Fuck.” She ran a hand through her hair. She couldn't believe Kira! It had been a fucking day. All she had to do was _Not Lose Fugue._

“What's wrong?”

“My sister fucking lost my Fugue.” She rambled.

Chris furrowed his brows. “Didn't know you composed music?”

Naz barked a cold laugh. “My bird. I have a fucking cockatoo. Or had. I don't even fucking know. I need to get back, I want to reschedule my flight for tomorrow morning.”

Chris looked dejected, but he masked it well. “How about you sleep on that? Maybe your sister will find him… him?”

“Him.”

“Him, in the morning.”

“I just. _I_ need to see he's okay. I know I’m just going to damper the mood for everyone else if I stick around, not into it.”

_Great, Naz. Now he’s gonna think you’re a crazy bird lady._

“Let me take you back to the hotel.” He offered.

“Thanks, but it's fine.”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Like four shots,” Naz said defensively, “I didn't make up the fact my sister lost my bird.”

Chris shook his head. “No, no. I just want you to get back safe.”

“I can take care of myself Chris.” Naz asserted.

He held up his arms. “I don't doubt that, honest. But humour me alright?”

Naz agreed mentally. She wasn't very familiar with Vegas and she wasn't in the best place, thanks to fucking Kira. But she felt guilty. Obviously Chris wouldn't offer if he didn't mean it, but she felt mildly obligated to stop him from chasing after her. Of course, she had agreed to the notion she was definitely into him in the past three hours, despite what she had said to Nicole and Meenal. And there was no way in hell he wasn't into her, his eyes on her ass earlier that night could attest to that. And the fact he hadn’t gone running in the opposite direction when he realized how invested she was in a fucking bird. And there seemed to be some bizarre strike of fate that insisted they be around each other.

Regardless, she said. “It's fine, seriously. Besides, you looked like you were having a good enough time in there.” Giving him another chance to take an out.

“What?” He snorted “The shitty dancing? That's nothing.”

“I don't wanna ruin your night.”

“Honestly, you're not. I’m too old for this shit anyway.”

She thought for a moment. “Okay. Let's go.”

“Alright, lead the way, sweetheart.”

“If my feet start getting sore from the heels I expect you to carry me.” She added, half joking.

_**12:05 AM.** _

“Done.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's all coming together!!!!! may or may not (there is) smut next so,,,,, You see how bird + tequila + bearded man = messy. anyway comments help motivate me to write faster so <333 thanks for reading!!!


	7. the one with lots and lots and lots of tequila

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally,,,, amirite. anyway as warned there is a lot of smut in this bad boy. very nsfw,,,,, so fair warning. or you're welcome.

“You don't remember a thing?” Chris asked.

“Nothing.”

“ _ Nothing?” _

“Absolutely nothing.”

“But I did some of my best work.” 

“I'm sure you did.” Naz reassured.

“I shouldn't be this offended!” 

**_The night before._ **

**_12:45 AM._ **

Naz left the club, Chris following closely behind her. They passed through crowds, his fingers gently grazing her hips to ensure he didn't lose her in the crowd. The car ride was quiet, she called Kira the second the taxi pulled up, thankful Chris was with her. It made it easier not to worry about getting back to the hotel safely. 

He took care of the cabs, the ridiculously slow elevator and the room keys, all while Naz impatiently huffed on the phone. Kira, naturally, didn't pick up once. This was typical. So Naz resorted to sending her a billion furious text messages and left about 57 screaming voicemails. She was seething by the time they got back to the hotel, even with Chris rubbing her shoulders or arms affectionately, trying to calm her down. 

“Thank you.” She said, sighing, once they entered her room. 

“No problem. You sure you don't need anything else?”

“Yeah. I can manage. I'm gonna book that flight back though.” 

The sad, puppy look returned to his soft face. “I know some people at the airline, I could get you a cheaper deal?” He offered. “It would have to wait till morning though. My agent’s probably sleeping.” 

Naz thought about it. “Alright. Thanks, Chris.”

“Don't mention it.”

“No, honestly. From the bathroom thing to the ex thing and now this? It's really sweet.” 

“It's nothing. Just trying to get back in your good books.” He said, cheekily. “Get some rest.” 

“Yeah, you're right.” Wishing he would just stay the night, Naz reluctantly watched him leave through the connecting doors.

She then changed into a t-shirt and some sweats, collapsing on her bed with a bottle of tequila from the hotel fridge. 

There was a knock from Chris’s side of the room. 

“Come in.”

“Hey, Naz, sorry to bug you sweetheart, but do you have an extra shampoo-- Oh, you're having fun without me, huh?” He said, cocking an eyebrow to the bottle of tequila. 

“I think so.” She said, voice sad and dejected. “Check the bathroom.” 

“Okay, sweetheart. Get up.” Chris said, shedding his suit jacket and placing it on an arm chair. 

“No.” 

“I thought you were getting some rest.”

“No. I'm moping. I want to mope.” 

“Come on. I have an idea to make you feel better.”

“I just want to lay here and die.” 

“Don't make me come scoop you up.” 

“Yeah, right. Do that.” Naz said, rolling her eyes. 

“Okay.” Chris marched right over to the bed, putting each hand on either side of Naz’s waist and scooped her up and over his shoulder. 

“Hey! What the fuck! Put me down!” Naz seethed, smacking the back of his head as she flailed, still holding her tequila. 

“Alright.” He had entered his room and tossed her down on his bed. 

“Are you insane?” Naz scrambled.

“You said do it.” He said, nonchalantly, opening the mini fridge in the corner. 

“Yeah,  _ sarcastically _ , idiot. Besides, what was your goal? If you think I’m not gonna lie in this bed and mope just like I was in mine, you're very, very mistaken.” Naz grabbed the covers and crawled inside the bed. Fuck if anyone was going to stop her from moping today. Kira lost her bird. She had given her sister one task,  _ one _ . Don't lose the fucking bird. What did Kira do? Lost the bird. 

“No, I expected you too,” Said Chris, shrugging, “but I figured you'd be a little uncomfortable with the fact I jerked off in that bed a couple hours ago.” 

Naz jolted out of her comfortable position and glared at him. “Disgusting.” She said, mind wandering to that  _ delicious _ image.

He cocked an eyebrow. Pulling his bottle of tequila out of the mini fridge he smirked. “Let's play a game.” He said, grabbing a glass and pouring some tequila into it.

“You're brandishing that bottle like a fucking villain.” 

“Ha. Ha.” 

Naz rolled her eyes, took a swig from her bottle and winced. “Delightful. Now, what the fuck’s your game.” 

“Never have I ever.”

“So we’re in high school.”

“Exactly.” 

“Alright, get the shot glasses.”

\----

“Never have I ever been tied up.”

“Never have I ever been spanked.”

“Never have I ever done the spanking.”

“You need to come up with more interesting questions these are so vanilla.”

“Up the ante.” Chris said. “Strip factor.” 

“You're on.” 

“Never have I ever used nipple clamps.” Chris grinned. 

Naz took a shot. Stripped off her socks.

“Never have I ever had a threesome with two women.”

Chris took a shot. Henley, gone. 

“Never have  _ I _ ever used anal plugs.”

“I don't believe that.”

“Let me rephrase,” Chris said. “Never have I ever had an anal plug in  _ my _ ass.” 

Naz reluctantly took another shot, taking the hair tie out of her hair.

“That doesn't count.”

“Totally does. Now never have I ever fucked someone at Disneyland.” 

“These are getting increasingly more specific.” Chris smirked. Pouring another shot he proudly downed it in a second, wincing. 

“No way. Where?”

“Tomorrowland bathroom.” He said, shedding his pants. Naz didn’t even try to make her staring subtle. “I didn’t want to traumatize poor kids.” He added.

Naz shrugged. “Valid. Okay, your turn.”

“Never have I ever made porn.” He said, eyeing her curiously.

Shaking her head she felt the heat rise to her face. Proudly, she wrapped her arms around herself and stripped her shirt off. Chris barked a laugh. “I knew it! You're kinky! Toys and tapes.” 

“Shut up and pour me another shot.”

He did so, placing it on his bare stomach and cocking his head.

Naz rolled her eyes, taking the shot off his abs with just her mouth.

“Never have I ever… Had anal sex.”

“Oh, come on, you  _ know _ the answer to that one!”

“Strip and drink, tiger, strip and drink.”

Chris didn’t even bother pouring a shot, drinking the tequila straight from the bottle.

“Are you trying to prove a point, big guy?”

“Maybe. But I’m out of clothes.”

“Boxers. Socks.”

“Socks it is. This isn’t fair. You’re still significantly more clothed than I am.”

“Oh well.” Naz said, shrugging.

“ _ Never _ have  _ I _ ever used a strap on.” He said, with a devious smirk.

“Oh fuck off. Pass the bottle.” 

“Nuh-uh-uh.” He withheld the tequila. “Strip first. I’m all for equality. And you are definitely not equally naked right now.” 

Naz rolled her eyes. “Course you are. Grade A feminist. A leader in the women’s movement.” She shrugged her sweats off, leaving her in lacy panties and a bra. “How’s that, Susan B. Anthony?”

Chris stretched out, putting his arms above his head and tugging his lower lip between his teeth. He was eye-fucking her. Plain and simple. Drinking in everything. “Much better.” He said, voice gruff.

Naz dropped to the bed, putting her hands on either side of Chris’s face and straddling him. Bringing her lips close to his she whispered. “Pause. I want cookies.”

Chris laughed, watching Naz squirm around the bed trying to find the basket.

“Still can't believe you managed to buy a basket of cookies. Room service sells those?”

“When you're Chris Evans they sell anything.” He said.

“Ooof.” Naz huffed, landing back onto the bed with the thump. “Didn't peg you as the name dropper type.”

“Didn't peg you as a bird person.” He said, honestly.

Naz sighed. Staring up at the ceiling she stayed silent.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He said quickly, touching her shoulder. “Didn't mean to bring that up again.” 

“It's fine. Let's play something else.” 

“Sure.” 

“This or that?”

“Okay so we’re still in high school.” 

“Essentially. You start.” She said, taking another swig of tequila. “I'm too heartbroken over Fugue to be thinking.” 

“Okay.” He thought for a moment. “Dogs or cats?” 

“Dogs, always, cats are okay but dogs are pure.” 

“Agreed, I’m a dog lunatic. My pup, Dodger, sleeps on my fuckin’ pillow. It's precious.” Chris said, resting his head on his hand and turning his body to face Naz.

“Okay this is adorable, but also making me miss Fugue so next question.”

He rubbed her arm, to which Naz melted a little into. “Alright, cake or cookies?”

“Cookies. Obviously.” 

“Same. Double chocolate or chocolate chip?”

“Chocolate chip. But with extra flour and butter so they’re puffy and moist.”

He made a moaning sound. “God, I want some more cookies now, pass them.”

“Okay so I got one.” Said Naz throwing him a cookie. “Pulp or no pulp?”

“Pulp, for sure.”

“Gross, heathen, no pulp for me.”

He shrugged. “Pulp is so good though! Okay, morning or night?”

“Night.”

“Night. Singing or dancing?”

“Singing, badly.”

Chris smirked. “Dancing.”

“Comedy or horror?”

“Comedies, always, I fuckin’ hate horror.”

“I’m with you on that one.” Naz said.

“Frozen yogurt or ice cream? Pass the tequila.” 

Naz took another sip before reluctantly handing Chris the bottle. “Ice cream, cookie dough.”

“God, yeah, or cookies and cream. Fuck.” He agreed, downing the last of the bottle.

“Hey! You couldn’t save me the last sip?” 

Chris smirked. “Nah, besides, there's another in the fridge.”

“Okay, this one’s a deal breaker: Yes or no to pineapples on pizza?”

He searched her face with a fake look of concern. “You’re not gonna beat me up if I say yes, are you?”

Naz bit her lip. “We’ll see.”

“Yes, it’s a good mix.”

“Agreed, seems like your taste isn’t atrocious after all, beer head.” She said. 

“See! Okay, big one, Christmas or The Fourth?”

“Christmas of course! Chocolate or vanilla?” She asked.

“Vanilla.” 

“In sex or as a flavour?” She said, slyly. The tequila was beginning to settle in and it was becoming increasingly apparent they were both in their underwear.

Chris tossed his head back, barking a laugh. “Just flavour.” He winked, and Naz felt the heat at the pit of her stomach return. “Blue eyes or brown eyes?” He asked. 

Naz stared at him. He fluttered his lashes on purpose, to which she snorted and threw a pillow at his face for. “Blue, only for you.”

“You flatter me. Democrat or Republican.” He asked. 

Naz made a vomiting sound, “Way to kill the mood. Democrat, obviously.”

Chris gave a half-hearted laugh. “So I don’t have to ask about the big orange--”

“Please don’t.”

“Yes ma'am.”

“I'm almost naked. And you're  _ still _ calling me ma'am.” Naz said, incredulously.

Chris traced circles on her stomach. “Sorry, sweetheart. Hot dogs or hamburgers?”

“I’m vegetarian. But veggie hot dogs, hands down.”

“Hey, me too.” Chris said, cheerfully. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, recently, actually. And I’m definitely a burger guy.”

“Chocolate or candy?”

“Jelly beans.” 

“That wasn’t an option, and stop eating all the cookies.”

“Candy, then. But jelly beans Naz.” He whined. “Also, no, these are really fuckin’ good.” 

“Beauty and the Beast or Aladdin?”

“Fuck! No!”

“You gotta answer!” Naz insisted. 

“Sweetheart…” He groaned. His Boston accent was beginning to slip out.

“Do you call everyone sweetheart?” Naz said, curiously, running a nail down Chris’s abs. 

“Just gorgeous women who've yelled at me about my broken penis.” 

“Good to know there's a bunch of us. Now. Answer the question for your  _ sweetheart _ .” She droned, sarcastically. 

“Fine, okay. Aladdin. But I’m tipsy so I don’t know if that’s 100% my answer.”

“Sure, sure. Aladdin always, for me.” 

“Top or bottom?” He said, suddenly. 

“Okay, so we're doing that now.”

“Aren’t you curious about me?” He asked, cocking his head, cutely. It was quite ironic. 

“I’m a switch. Depends. And yes, I am curious about you. Tell me.”

“Top but I’m open to switching.”

“Of course you are.”

“Here’s one: Boobs or butts.” 

“Oh boobs, all the way.” 

“Really?” Chris asked incredulously. “I’m an ass man.”

“If I was an ass girl I would never be into you.” Naz said, downing some more tequila. 

He quirked a brow. “You’re into me, huh?” 

Naz ignored him. “Doggy or reverse cowgirl?”

“Oh fuck.” He swallowed. “Reverse cowgirl. You?”

“Hate doggy.”

“Poor pup.”

Naz snorted.

“Showers or baths?” Chris asked.

“Let’s spice that one up. Sex in the shower or sex in the bathtub?”

“Depends on the occasion. Also is it you because I feel like slipping is a valid concern to both.”

“Fuck off.” 

“Okay, okay. Really though. Is it slow or fast, rough or sweet?” 

“I dunno, you tell me.”

“Rough or sweet?” He asked. His body had come impeccable close. Or hers had come impeccably close to his. He ran a hand over her hip, grazing the exposed skin above her panties.

Naz raked her hands up his stomach, leaving a trail where her nails had been. She looked up into his eyes and sighed. Biting her lip she smirked.

“Rough.”

“Fast or slow?” He breathed.

“Fast.”

“Top or bottom?”

“Bottom.”

He rolled over, her head hitting the pillow. She hitched her leg around his hip and let him grind down against her as he hovered above. 

“Then I’d have to say shower. Up against the wall is quite nice.” 

“You're right.” Naz said, her voice rough. “But bathtub you can get so deep. Pun intended.” 

Chris shook his head, laughing. Gazing down into her eyes he whispered “Can I kiss you?”

Naz felt her heart race. “That’s not a valid this or that question.” She managed, panting.

He pressed his hips down, grinding just in the right spot.

“You’re something.” He said, hot breath fanning over her face.

“Still not a valid question.”

Chris chuckled. Leaning into whisper in her ear he said.“You kiss me, or I kiss you?”   
“Both.”

His lips came crashing down on hers hard and she met them with equal intensity. Every nerve was on fire. Naz didn't realize how much tension had been built up to this moment and could feel it in the way he kissed her. She tried to match him, but gave into his touch, melting and letting him take charge. The taste of tequila and faintly chocolate was an amusing mix. She felt the bristles of his beard scratch and the contrast of his soft lips against hers felt amazing.

Kicking her leg around his hip she rolled them over so she was on top. Running messy kisses down his beard and neck Naz’s fingers worked through his boxers, but his hand slowed her down.

He cleared his throat. “I'm gonna need you to slow down a bit, tiger. Still a bit… Sore.” 

Naz snorted. “Of course. I’ll go gentle,  _ virgin.”  _ She snickered, removing her bra and remembering she would be the first person to have sex with him post penis break.

“Ha. Ha.” He flipped them over so he was on top again. Pinning her hands above her head he lowered his face to kiss her breasts. He traced his lips down her stomach, running his nose down her skin, and leaving soft kisses. Chris brought his hands back down and held onto hers. 

He looked up, lashes fluttering away, and saw her nod at him to continue. Sliding his fingers under the waistband of her panties he slid them off her and tossed them somewhere on the bed. 

Chris ran his lips across Naz’s thighs before kissing her pussy. He pulled her close, scraping his beard against her, enticing a moan. Naz’s knees spread further apart her fingers coming down and tugging at his hair. 

“The basket of cookies is going to fall off the bed.” She moaned.

“Not exactly the right time for conversation, sweetheart.” He murmured against her, blowing cool air against her pussy and making her shudder.

“Jesus Christ.” 

She groaned, cursed and moaned, fingers pulling at Chris’s hair. “Oh, baby.”

He flattened his tongue against her, lapping slowly, and took his time. Naz was shaking. One hand on her breast and the other grasping the sheets furiously she felt every lick, every  _ suck,  _ as Chris toyed with her cunt and left long teasing licks. 

She felt Chris expertly flicking her clit faster and faster, the familiar build up in her stomach rising. 

Naz was incredibly grateful for the time he was taking, sucking her clit into his mouth and leaving his fingers out of the equation. She would come way too fast if he fucked her with them, and this way was better. It felt more intimate being rawed by his lips and tongue, occasionally teeth nipping, making her squirm and shudder. He teased her, bringing her to closer and closer to the edge and releasing her clit every time.

“Hurry the fuck up.” She growled, grinding her pussy against him, feeling the rough whiskers of his beard again, sharp against her skin.

He moaned up against her, the sound vibrating against her as he grasped her ass and encouraged her to grind against him again.

“I'm practically suffocating you.” She teased, laughing between her heavy breathing. Chris’s hands gripped her body tight, rolling her clit with his tongue. “Come on!” She giggled. “Make me come! Get that beard  _ real _ messy. Give you something to taste. Chris-” 

“All in due time.” He growled, nipping her clit and pushing two fingers inside. 

“Fuck!” 

He was relentless, pulling her down and lapping with such raw desperation, matching the speed with his fingers, curling and rubbing her g-spot. As if he couldn't live without making her writhe and moan, the man was fucking dedicated.

“Oh,  _ God,” _

“You gonna come, baby? Come all over my mouth?”

“Yes, yes,  _ yes, _ fuck. Don't stop– Oh fuck!”

She bucked up and down, involuntarily pressing her cunt into him further, desperately needing to ride out her release. Chris encouraged this, but kept her hips from moving out of position. He grasped her ass again, rocking her against his lips, as she finally felt herself tense, jolt and writhe as come leaked onto his lips and beard.

She stayed rooted to her spot for a moment, breathing heavy, feeling his warm tongue lap everything up, sucking every last drop she had to offer.

“Mmm.” He laughed “Could a virgin make you come that hard?” 

Naz rolled her eyes, still spent from her orgasm, but she took one look at the massive tent in Chris’s boxers and her eyes widened. 

“What's wrong?” He said. 

“Nothing it's…” 

“We don't have to do anything else.” He said, suddenly. “That's 100% cool, Naz.”

“No!” She said, suddenly, and with a little too much vigour. “No, I want too. I want you. I just… You have a penis… And it’s been awhile… Since I’ve been with someone with a penis.”

Chris leaned down and kissed her deep. “Of course. You tell me what's good, alright?” 

“Wow.” Naz laughed, gazing up into his eyes. “No virgin rebuttal? Pot calling the kettle…”

Chris shrugged. “It's different.” 

“Honestly, just fuck me already, the sweetness is making me so fucking hot right now.” 

“Condom?” 

“Suitcase.” 

“Fuck.” 

“So far.” 

“Wait!” He scrambled to the other side of the bed and pulled his wallet out from the back pocket of his jeans. Holding up the tin foil wrapper like it was a fucking prize, Chris finally stripped off his boxers and tore it open. Rolling it down his shaft he positioned himself at her slit and inched in slowly, watching Naz’s face the whole time for any signs of discomfort. 

He stilled when he was all the way in. “You good, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah, fuck. Move.” 

She was in heaven, Chris’s thrusts speeding up, his fingers on her sides leaving delicious bruises, lips against her neck. 

He was impeccably good at this and Naz was going to remember how amazing he felt in the morning, she knew that much. Regardless of the tequila or the haziness she knew she was going to remember how it felt to have Chris’s hands on her, Chris’s mouth on her, Chris moaning her name and kissing her lips, whispering in her ear.

“You feel so fucking good, baby.” He growled.

Naz whined, moaning against his open mouth. 

“Fuck, your noises. You're gonna make me come with that mouth and this pussy.” 

God, if that wasn't an ego boost. 

“Harder.” She gasped, grinding her hips against him, desperate for more friction.

His thrusts became sloppy and she knew he was close. 

“What was that, sweetheart?”

“Harder, baby.”

“Keep talking, sweetheart, fuck, I’m close.”

“Fuck me, Chris.”

She was close too, so she let her fingers dance back down to her clit and rubbed in rhythm to match his thrusts. She came again seeing stars, writhing under him, feeling every clichéd effect of her orgasm, toes curling, head thrown back, before he did, but it only took him a moment to fall over to edge too. His body tensed, everything, jaw, arms, back, she felt it as she clung to him, scratching down, leaving marks on his pale skin. His grunts and his groans echoed through the room, and with a few more easing thrusts he collapsed on top of her, breathing heavy, but kept his weight on his side. 

And holy shit. He was fucking beautiful. He kissed her, slow, deep, with a different kind of heat behind it, before getting up to tie off the condom and toss it in the trash.

“You seriously broke your penis a month ago?” Naz said as he climbed back into the bed.

Chris barked a laugh. 

“Glad it did the job.” 

“Jesus, I see why you and Jeanine fucked like bunnies.” 

“Sleep, Naz. You're exhausted.” 

“And who's to blame for that?”

“Me.” 

“This was quite lovely.” Naz giggled.

“You’re quite lovely.” 

“Shut up.”

He kissed her again, stroking her cheek.

“We should get married.” She said abruptly. 

“We should. Just to show up M&M.” 

“Why not! I'm cute. You're cute. We would make very cute babies. Nicole thinks we should, or Nicole thinks I should fuck Jay, I don't know. Nicole is quite cute too. But, you! We did this. We’re fun. We’re in Vegas.”

“We are cute. You like Nicole? I’m pretty sure she’s seeing someone though, sorry, sweetheart. Honestly, the chapel’s probably still open, let’s do it. I need to settle down sometime-- Naz?”

Chris looked over to her side of the bed and saw Naz peacefully sleeping. 

“Goodnight to you too, tiger.” 

-

**_The morning_ **

“It's nothing to be offended about, big guy. We were piss drunk, besides--- Oh fuck.”

“What?”

“I remember something.”

“What?”

“Did we get…”

“Oh no. I remember talking about...”

“I can't remember if we actually did…”

“Get…”

_ “Married!?”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u liked the chapter!!!!! i luv comments and feedback they help motivate me to write faster n make me smile like a big goof<3 thanks for reading!!!!


	8. the one with the morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the late update,,, forgive me,,, and in light of the setting of this fic and of recent events ❤️ #vegasstrong

Here’s the thing.

Naz never did anything without thinking about it first. Extensively. Not your normal deliberate and decide. Naz was calculative. Specific. She knew exactly what she wanted and if she didn’t she took her damn time trying to figure that out first, before doing absolutely anything.

She was analytical, level-headed, rational.

She was, essentially, the epitome of not getting married in Vegas.

And yet, here she was, shy of thirty, and married to her coworker of about three months.

She was _so_ fired.

And so she paced.

That's what the rest of Naz's morning consisted of. Pacing.

She had been on the phone for what seemed like a decade, calling every last person she knew who was discreet and who could tell her what the fuck went on last night. And what the fuck to do now.

Chris was doing the same, though Naz only heard bits and pieces of his phone calls through her own. He called his publicist, Jen, his brother, Scott, his mother, Lisa (to which Naz was furious), but taking one look at his face she knew the man needed support... And she sure as hell wasn't about to give it to him.

He looked distraught. Racked with anxiety. Three months she had worked with him and the only time she recollected him looking more distraught he broke his penis.

She tried not to let this affect her ego. That being married to her was worse than breaking his penis. Because rationally, logically, that truly wasn't the case. It was the 'we got drunk and made cripplingly horrendous decisions to join our lives together after consuming several-what seemed like-gallons of tequila’ that had him so distraught.

She hated tequila now.

Great.

There was only a fraction of hope left in her as well. She knew there was still a possibility they didn't get married, an equal possibility if she wasn't so prone to shitty luck.

Regardless, Naz prepared for the worst. She always did.

"Okay, that was Jen." He said, hanging up the phone. "She said she'll do some digging, talk to the hotel, the chapel, see if anyone saw anything."

Naz remained silent.

He approached her, rubbing her shoulders. "Hey, sweetheart, it's gonna be okay."

She snapped out of her trance, shrugging off his embrace. "Huh? What? I know. I know it's gonna be fine. Worst case we get a quickie annulment and it's over with."

"Best case it never actually happened."

"I don't do best cases."

"Oh?"

"I left my bird with my sister. She lost my bird. I slept with my colleague. And accidentally, probably married him. Because I was sad my sister lost my fucking bird. So no. I don't." Naz said.

"I take it you haven’t heard from Kira at all?"

"No."

Chris hesitated, clearly debating on how best to comfort her. "I'm sorry."

Naz shrugged, heart sinking. "Is it bad I'm more upset about my bird than this?"

"No, I don't think so. If dodger was missing I would fucking riot."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well." She sighed, "thanks, Chris."

"It'll be okay. We'll figure this out."

Sure, we will hubby. Sure.

-

“Someone sounded like they had a good time last night.” Meenal chirped at brunch.

Naz could’ve killed her. Actually, physically murdered her.

“Not today.” She raised her finger accusingly. “ _You_ don’t get to charm me today. Not _today_ , Meenal.”

Nicole sat down at the table, a plate full of eggs in her hands. Naz gagged a little. The hangover wasn’t doing her any good.

“Sorry, dear.” Nicole winced, rubbing Naz’s back. “I’m guessing you haven’t heard about Fugue…?”

Naz helplessly lay her head on the table. “No one mention Fugue or Kira to me ever again. This weekend sucks.” She whined, voice muffled by the table. “I hate everything.”

“Okay…” Meenal’s eyes lit up. “How much sleep did you get with Chris going at it in the next room.” She had her curious voice on and Naz groaned. “I didn’t see anyone else leave the club after him. You think he called Jenny?”

“I edit my previous statement. No Fugue, no Kira and _definitely_ no Chris.”

Sipping her mimosa and looking up Nicole scoffed. “Speak of the devil.” She muttered.

Chris had entered the buffet, changed and showered from when Naz saw him last. He had trimmed his beard, sported a tight long sleeve with his sleeves rolled up and some jeans. He glanced over at Naz briefly, sending a tight smile her way, before smiling genuinely at Nicole and Meenal and heading over to Max at the buffet table.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Naz lurched.

Meenal made a face. “Not on the table, thanks.”

Naz pushed her chair away from the table and quickly excused herself. She passed Chris at the buffet table, who looked like he cricked his neck twisting it so fast to see where Naz was headed, as she rushed to the nearest washroom.

How much of her nausea was attributed to an excess of tequila and how much was the result of her stomach tying over and over again in knots she couldn't tell. How did she let this happen? If it happened. What was she supposed to tell her sister? Her _mother_ , Christ.

She hovered over the sink, breathing heavy, all but expecting to hurl her guts out. But, nothing. Nothing came out. Maybe just seeing Chris gave her the feeling she was going to absolutely lose her shit.

So she paced again. Waiting and waiting, desperately for a sign from whoever or whatever to let the feeling pass. To let this weekend just fucking end.

Feeling the nausea settle, she sighed, washed her hands and braced herself to face everyone again.

It would be fine. That’s what she told herself, anyway. It would be fine.

Or at least that’s what she hoped until a hand grabbed her from the hallway and pulled her into a supply closet. Now she was just praying she wouldn’t be fucking kidnapped.

Adultnapped. Idiotnapped.

“Holy shit!” Naz squeaked, staring Chris down. Of course. He was now going to kill her and hide her in the supply closet to save his career. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? What the fuck is wrong with you!” She slapped his chest, evidently not causing the slightest disruption to his agenda. He probably didn’t even notice, the man was built like a tank.

He reached over and behind her, and she drew in a sharp breath. Too close. They were too fucking close to each other. She could smell him. And he didn’t reek of tequila. How. It was still seeping from her pores.

He flicked the lightswitch on. “Sorry, sorry. You need to see this.”

“What?”

He pulled out his phone, “Jen texted me about a divorce lawyer, just in case, She’s a good one, discreet.”

“Okay...” Naz said slowly, “and? This couldn’t wait? Had to be done in a closet that smells like…” She sniffed, disgusted, “feet?”

“No. Not that. Since she’s my publicist she has to be on top of shit. Tabloids, gossip, rumours, you name it--”

“Yes, I know what a publicist does, get to your point.”

“She found this.” He handed her his phone. “Posted this morning.”

Naz took his phone and looked at it tentatively. And just like she had predicted, she was fucked.

It was a picture of a tabloid, a tabloid on a stand in a local supermarket as common as a bag of fucking bananas. Naz was used to seeing tabloids. She was sort of an expert in tabloids.

Until the tabloid had her fucking face on it.

**_CHRIS EVANS SPOTTED IN VEGAS -- GETTING HITCHED!_ **

**_WHO’S THE MYSTERY WOMAN?_ **

“Oh my fucking--”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...pretend i'm not posting this 86 years late...  
>  also it's not... long,,, and it's kind of shitty lmfao,,, but it's necessary to bridge over to where i wanna go w this... so like bear w me pls  
> ily leave lots of comments/theories thanx u da best


	9. the one with the soft frat boy look

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> exciting times!!! we're about to get into the fun

**_Two weeks later:_ **

“Naz… Naz? Are you okay?”

Naz was laying on her bed staring up at the ceiling. She ignored Kira. 

She had got home two weeks ago, only to have Fugue and Kira greet her. Fugue was fine. Which, normally, Naz would’ve been over the moon about. Unfortunately, his disappearance, albeit brief, led her to an intoxicated life union with Chris Evans, so she wasn’t particularly thrilled to see that it was for nothing. 

He sensed her disdain, and had kept it down for the past two weeks. That, she was thankful for. Kira, however, was a different story. She had coming charging into Naz’s room with The Tabloid in hand. “Care to fucking explain?” She had hollered, all too eager to catch her older sister doing something so classically Kira. Naz shot her a stare. Her stare. A stare that said,  _ you fucking caused this you incompetent excuse for a responsible adult human being _ , a look that effectively shut Kira up.

So she lay in her bed. She was waiting. Work picked up again in a few days and it was almost the 30th. 

The Appointment Date. 

The day she’d see Chris for the first time in two weeks. 

“Shut up.” She sighed as Kira kept chirping at her. “Don’t you work? Have a job? Deadlines?”

“I feel bad.” Kira said, toying with whatever jewelry was sitting on Naz’s dresser.

“Good.”

“I’m being a good sister.” She defended. “I feel bad so I’m here, trying to make sure you have someone if you need anything.”

There was absolutely nothing genuine about Kira’s tone, and given how much she was eyeing a pair of earrings on Naz’s dresser, she knew her sister wasn’t being genuinely supportive.

Naz tilted her head curiously. “ _ You _ feel bad, so you’re here for  _ me _ . Isn’t it  _ I _ feel bad so you’re here for me? And don’t take those, you always lose my shit.”

Kira spun around, “When have I lost--”

Naz cocked her brow, pointing at Fugue happily perched on the footboard. 

“I could really use some space, Kira.”

“Okay.” Kira said, surprisingly without any opposition. She collected her things from Naz’s room, leaving Naz to petulantly huff and shove her head back in her pillow. 

She was waiting for Chris. He was supposed to call with confirmation of the divorce date. The 30th. And then they would be able to forget all about the mess. 

It was weird she hadn’t really spoken to him since Vegas. Naturally, it made sense, but practically rooming with someone for four days definitely gets you bonding. That and marrying them. 

And fucking them. 

So, she waited. He would call, confirm the appointment, they would divorce and then they would head back to work. Normal. And everything would be normal.

Naz heard the front door open, followed by Kira “Naz?”

“What now?” Naz yelled from her bedroom. “Are you incapable of locking the door behind you? You have a fucking key!”

“No, there’s a man here for you.” Kira said slowly.

“Send him away Kira, I’m dying and being dead.”

Kira laughed nervously. “He can hear you.” 

“Does it sound like a care?”

There was a pause, followed by the clunking of heels, on Naz’s new hardwood floors. She groaned, throwing the pillow off the bed and storming to the living room. “Kira, I swear to God, stop scratching my apartment floor with your cheap ass heels--”

“Hi.” 

Chris was standing in Naz’s apartment door.

“Your hubby’s here.” Kira chirped. 

“Fuck off.” Naz muttered at Kira. 

She raised her arms up in defense. “Fine, I’m going,” She turned to Chris, “Nice to meet you, I’m Kira and I’m definitely single as soon as you divorce my sister.” She said happily.

Chris chuckled awkwardly, trying to keep a smirk off his face. “Right. My pleasure.” 

And with that Kira was out the door. 

“Sorry about her. She acts like a fucking child.”

He shrugged, smiling “Sisters, I get it. I have two. She is a little wild though.”

Naz was so confused. There he was, Chris Evans in the flesh, again. But he looked different. Crazy different. He had cut his hair off, sporting a short fluffy look that made him look a bit like a puppy. Scruff was gone, his bone structure ridiculously evident now. He had also gained at least another ten pounds, looking bigger in the arms and chest than before. If that was even possible. Somehow he had managed to go from fuckable college professor to soft, socially conscious frat boy in under two weeks. It was brutal for Naz’s brain. 

“You look… Different.” She settled for.

“Filming soon. Had to do the whole extreme makeover.”

“No kidding.”

Chris raised his eyebrows. “You like the beard, or this?” 

“Partial to the beard but this is… A change. You look 25.”

Chris barked a laugh. “My thinning hair would say otherwise.” 

Naz shook her head. “You know what I mean. It’s freaky. Dermatologists hate you.” 

“Hilarious.” 

“Uh, so, hate to be rude but why and how are you here? Naz said, clearly capable of controlling herself. 

Chris looked surprised, “Oh, right, sorry. I figured it was easier to explain some things this way rather than over the phone.”

Naz nodded. “Okay, sure.”

“And Meenal texted me your address, I hope it’s not too intrusive, I know I should’ve called.”

“No, no. It's fine.” She paused. “Come on in, did you want anything to drink? Water, OJ, I have some beer left over from when Kira was fucking up the place.”

“Water’s fine.” He looked around, absently, “Nice place.” He said, sitting down on her sofa.

The more Naz stared at him sitting there the more she could picture him fitting in quite nicely into her simple woodsy decor. 

_ Which would be weird considering he would be her ex-fucking husband.  _

His thin sweater lifted up as he stretched his arm across the back of the sofa, revealing his stomach ever so slightly. 

He cleared his throat, and snapped Naz out of her thoughts. “I’m all for the ogling but… considering the situation…”

Naz shook her head. “Sorry what?” Fuck!

“Nothing.” He was wearing that oh-so-familiar smirk on his face. It irked her. 

She headed back over to him with two glasses in hand. Setting them down onto the coffee table she sat on the same sofa as him, just a whole cushion over. She figured that was best for both of them, given their history in confined spaces. 

“You look nice.” He smiled.

Had she been more intrigued by this conversation and less freaking out about being a divorcee before she was 30, Naz might’ve been self conscious that she was only wearing a thin tank top and some pajama shorts with fourth day hair. But she wasn’t.

“Uh, thanks.”

“Right, anyway,” Chris cleared his throat again. “These are yours.” He pulled out some papers from his bag, before reaching for the water.

Naz scanned the documents quickly.

“We should qualify for annulment,” He said, “so that’s a bit better considering it’ll be like it never happened.”

“Yeah. That’s probably best.” 

“So we can head to the courts in the morning tomorrow, just bring the signed papers and ID, Jen will be there but no one else. Keeps it quiet.”

Naz was staring at a tiny stain on the carpet. “Right.” 

“And,” Chris continued, “she’s pulled some strings with the media so we don’t have to worry about that either.”

Naz’s head snapped up. “What strings?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like what strings? What did you offer you’d give them?” Naz knew tabloids. Naz was the one who would negotiate with tabloids. And something like this? No way they would just retract a story without some serious spillage.

Naz took a deep breath. “What is it?”

“Don’t get mad, alright?”

“I’m not promising anything.” Naz said.

“Jen just told them that they can run with us dating.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “But they don’t know who I am?”

“Jen said she doesn’t have to give them a name, just fluffed the story without the marriage shit.”

Naz shook her head. “I don’t know if I believe that.”

“Trust me, okay?” He reached across the sofa, rubbing her arm. “It’s gonna be fine.” 

His hand was soft. Looking up at his face for the first time in two weeks Naz sighed. She had been avoiding it, knowing one look at those big, blue, fluttery eyes with those stupid, adorable crinkles at the edges would make her cave.

“Okay.” She nodded. 

Fugue decided to make an appearance at this time, eagerly climbing all over and around Chris.

“Hi, hello, this is Fugue I’m guessing?” He laughed, clearly surprised. 

“Yeah, sorry, he bites.” 

Fugue scratched Chris and he hissed, his arm pinking up. 

“Scratches too.” Naz added to which Chris laughed. 

“Thanks for the heads up. What’s the meaning behind his name?” 

“He’s fancy. I figured he would probably make a solid composer so I gave him a pretentious name. Bartholomew Fugue.”

“Why Fugue then? Why not just call him Barty?”

“‘Cause it reminds me of Barty Crouch Jr. from Harry Potter and he’s fucking hideous.” 

Chris barked a laugh. “True,” he said, petting Fugue’s feathers. “And he’s one pretty boy.”

“Don’t be too nice, he gets attached.” Naz warned. 

“Is that why you don’t invite men over?” Chris teased.

Naz snorted. “I figure my husband’s just fine.”

“Wow, we’re making progress.” 

“Well we’re married for another day. Might as well act domestic.” 

Fugue bit Chris’s finger. “Ouch! Fuck!” He cursed.

“He’s a good judge of character.” Naz smirked. “Doesn’t seem to like you very much.” 

“Ha ha, very funny. It’s a good thing you’re leaving me.”

“You bet.” 

Fugue chirped happily, settling himself on Naz’s shoulder. 

“Look, about work--” Chris started.

“Let's just forget about it, okay? Don't worry. I’ll just tell who needs to know and leave it at that. Besides this is a past thing. There's no future, so it’s not relevant--- _ ouch! _ Fugue, you prick stop biting my ear.”

“Right. You know what to do.” 

“Yep.” 

There was a pregnant silence. 

“I should… Go.” Chris said. 

“Yeah.”  _ Don't.  _

“You sure you're okay?” 

“I’m fine, Chris.” 

He got up, dusting Fugue’s loose feathers off his jeans. “Okay. I’ll pick you up tomorrow, then?” He said, heading towards the sink to put the glasses in.

“Uh, actually,” Naz started “I had to go to the courts one of these days anyway, so I can just meet you there.”  

“Oh? Contesting a speeding ticket? You seem like the type to go 20 over.” He teased.

“Shut up.” Naz saw him begin to wash the glasses. “Don't worry about that. You're the guest.”

“Far from.” Chris laughed. “I sort of showed up uninvited.”

“Still.”

“Let your hubby do shit for you, Naz.”

She rolled her eyes.

“So, courts?” He asked. 

“I’m meeting with my lawyer, he’ll be between cases and it's urgent.” 

Concern lit up his eyes. “Everything alright?” 

“Huh? Oh yeah, totally. I’m Canadian, I’m in the middle of applying for dual and there was some issue.” She said, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“Really! I had no idea you were Canadian.” 

“Yeah.” Naz shrugged. “It didn't come up.”

Drying off his hands Chris asked, “Where from?”  

“Calgary, but most of my family lives in Toronto now.” 

“Interesting, I’ve been up to Toronto quite frequently, Vancouver too, but never Calgary.”

“Not many people do. You should go, though. Put us on the map.” Naz smiled. 

Chris had been standing in her kitchen for a solid minute now. “Anyway,” he said. “See you tomorrow, 9?”

“Sounds good.” 

“And you're sure you're okay?” 

“I'm solid.” Naz said, again. “We’re fine. And thank you, for the dishes.” 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” And without a moment's hesitation he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Bye.” 

“Right. Bye.” 

God she was so fucked. 

\-- 


	10. the one where naz makes a terrible, horrible decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so! this is going in the direction of one of my fave romcoms,,,,

The next morning everything went by at hyper speed. She attributed that half to nerves and half to the fact she woke up half an hour late, and spent the next half hour frantically running around her apartment with Fugue looking curiously, and probably judging the sanity of, his owner. She had to make herself look composed. She would be meeting Chris’s publicist and as far as she knew, Naz was just some wild gold digger. Which she would gladly take upon herself, if it didn't take so much effort. She decided, finally, on a work makeup look and a simple beige dress, only after throwing half her closet on the floor. She figured keep it simple. Didn't really want to get annulled in sequins. 

Though noticing the mustard stain on her boob would've been ideal  _ before _ she left the house. 

She also wished she hadn't turned down Chris’s offer to drive her to the courts. Parking was atrocious and by the time she found a spot, ran frantically inside with her hair wild and her dress wrinkled in every possible way, it was 9:20. 

The courts were big and echoey, and Naz definitely regretted wearing heels at this point, clunking obnoxiously on the marble. 

Naz spotted Chris at the end of what was now the eighth hallway, noted to herself she should get really get his phone number, to avoid this kind of kerfuffle in the future. Except after today they wouldn't even have to talk again, so she ignored the idea. He was talking to a blonde woman, whom Naz assumed was Jen.

“She’ll be here, I’m sure, just calm down alright.” 

Jen looked panicked. “I can't calm down, Chris, it’s literally my job to not calm down so you can. If she’s 20 minutes late already I’m worried she's not gonna show, and that's a problem!”

“She probably just got caught in traffic, for Christ’s sake--”

“And didn't text you? This is sketchy and it’s my job to make sure no one takes advantage of you and your finances--”

“Hi.” Naz interrupted, before Jen had the chance to finish her sentence.

Jen straightened up, and Chris turned. His face lit up, smiling genuinely. “Hi.”

“I'm so sorry. Traffic. And parking was the devil.” She left out the waking-up-late-thing.

Chris gave Jen a look, and she rolled her eyes as subtly as she could.

“Hi,” Jen stuck out her hand to shake Naz’s. “I’m Jen Fredricks, Chris’s publicist.”

“Nice to meet you.” Naz said, trying to act genuine and not like she had just heard Jen accuse her of fraudulent money snatching. “Nazanin Dubey, but Naz is fine.”

Opening the door behind them Jen motioned for Chris and Naz to follow. “Judge Garber is ready for us, Naz you have your set of forms?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, in here.” 

Naz felt her phone go off. “Sorry,” She said, as Jen gave her a concerned look.

She checked her texts, only to groan. It was her lawyer.

**_Hey, I’m in room 20-06 right now, have a solid 15 to go over your documents. Urgent try to get here ASAP._ **

“It's fine.” She heard Chris growl at Jen.

Naz looked up. “I’m so sorry, I need to meet with my lawyer for an urgent matter.”

Jen looked furious, masking it with a fake smile. “We need to get this done, Naz.”

“And we will, I promise-- I just… I need 15 minutes. I’ll be back.” 

“It's okay.” Chris said, rubbing her arm. “Go. We can wait.” 

Naz shot him a thankful look, before rushing in the other direction. If only she could find the hallway… 

\-- 

“Shut the door behind you, thanks.” 

Naz nodded, shutting the door before sitting down in front of the desk. It had only taken her a solid ten minutes to find the room so she was down to five minutes with her lawyer. She entered the room, a small office with a desk much like the one Jen had opened the door of a few hallways over. Two men sat behind a large chestnut desk, one an middle aged, short man with a square, kind face, furrowed eyebrows and greying hair, her lawyer Todd, and another she didn't recognize. A tall man, lanky and with a vaguely evil demeanour. Bird-like. Fugue when he spite-shat on her white sofa-like. It was a weird feeling, being on the other side of a desk during a consultation. Todd smiled. The other man stayed silent. 

“How are you?” Todd asked. 

She eyed the silent one. “Good. Alright. You?” She said, adjusting herself in the hard, wooden chair. 

“Good, busy, so let's get straight to the point. This is Mr. James Callaghan, he’s an immigration consultant.” Todd said, pointed at the silent man. 

“Oh. Nice to meet you.” Naz smiled. His face stayed unchanged. Alright, then, soulless.

Todd flipped through his documents. “So, there's been an issue.” 

“Yes you said that over the phone.” She tried to search his face for any clues. “Todd spit it out.” 

“Currently you reside in the US based on a work visa, correct?”

“Yes, and have been for almost five years.”

“Right, so when you applied for dual the goal was to see if we could apply for permanent residency given you've resided here nearly five years on a work visa.” 

“And then citizenship, right?”

“Exactly.”

“So what's the issue?” Naz was getting nervous.

“It came up that in May 2016 you left the country for London for two days, despite being warned that breached the terms of your employment visa.” 

“Right, but I left for work.” Naz said. She had an eerie feeling where this was going. “There was a PR crisis during Avengers 2 press, I needed to be on the ground in London as eyes from HR.” She remembered the day quite well, some idiot got caught up in a brawl at a London pub. His name rhymes with Bobert Nowney Gunior. 

“Yes, but the terms of your employment agreement specifically ban you from exiting The States, unless its back to Canada, or with significant notice from your employer.”

“Marvel said they would take care of it.” Naz said, adamantly. “I mean, it was so long ago and nothing ever came up I assumed it was taken care of.” 

“Well,” Todd sighed, looking over his shoulder nervously at James who was too busy looking like an impatient Grim Reaper. “The breach was never prioritized until you tried to apply for permanent residency and citizenship.” 

“You're kidding.” Naz was livid, gears in her brain clicking. “So now I have to start over? What? Re-apply for my work visa, and pretend the last five years never happened? I wouldn't have even gone to London had my employer not insisted it.” Now she was wondering if she could sue them.

Todd looked like he was going to be sick. “That's the thing, right now by law you're required to return to country of origin, to sort everything out and re-apply as a new applicant.” 

“Wait, are you telling me--”

“You've got about a month to sort out your affairs before you'll be forced to leave.”

“Deported.” Ah, James the Devil was speaking now. 

“You have got to be fucking with me right now.” Naz scoffed. “This is a big joke.” She stood up, in disbelief, chuckling. “Tell me you're kidding.”

Todd grimaced. James rolled his eyes.

“I don't have a life in Toronto anymore.” Naz started again, beginning to pace around the room. “My job is here, my life is here, my relevant family is here--” Why was everything turning to shit all at once? Had the universe just decided this month was it, that Naz had had enough good things happen and now she was doomed to be the ex-expat who accidentally got married in--

Oh. 

And it was like a lightbulb went off in her head. Everything made sense and before she could talk herself out of it she cut off Todd’s profuse apologies with a shriek of, “I’m  _ married.” _

Todd raised an eyebrow. See, Todd had known Naz for a while now. Sure they weren't friends, they didn't really know enough about each other to be professional references, but Naz knew Todd had a wife and two kids and Todd knew Naz was perpetually alone.

Plus, the fact she blurted it as very much a cry of desperation. And had never mentioned her husband to Todd. Ever. 

“Oh?” He said.

“Yes.” Naz said, confidently. “I’m married.” 

“Well then, congratulations?” He asked, concern lighting up his eyes. 

“When did that happen?” James perked up, eyeing Naz with his beady eyes. 

“Two weeks ago. We eloped.”

“I didn't know you were seeing anyone.” Todd said, clearly worried Naz was doing something oh-so stupid. Which she was, but she wasn't a liar.

“I was, in fact! We just hit it off and decided, fuck it, you know? Life’s short. We should get married. Biological clock is ticking and his hairline is receding.” Her palms were sweating now. 

“Right.” James said, clearly unconvinced. “Well, Ms. Dubey, you’re already probably aware that fraud is a federal offence punishable by--” 

“She knows.” Todd cut him off. “I’m happy for you Naz. This is great news.” 

Naz tried to get the crazy-serial killer smile off her face. “Thank you, and so I guess that takes care of this? Spousal visa instead of a work visa?”

“Exactly.” Todd said. 

“Unless,” James interjected. “There's anything else you want to tell us now.” 

“Nope.” Naz said happily. “Nothing.”

Todd nodded. “Listen, let’s get the spousal visa paperwork in, I’ll of course have to meet the lucky man of the hour. Can I get a name for the records?” 

“Right.” She swallowed. Was she really going to do this? Never in her life had she found herself in such a fucked up position. But it was now or never. Married or throw the last five years of work she’d put in away. She smiled, trying not to showcase the fear in her eyes. “His name’s Chris.” She said, breathing out slowly. “Christopher Robert Evans.” 

_ Oh god. What did she do? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed the chapter!!!!! 110% inspired by The Proposal w sandra bullock and ryan reynolds, except I definitely will touch on this issue in chapters to come to the best of my ability with tact and respect because immigration is super important and something a lot of ppl deal with in serious ways and I by no means wish to trivialize any experience.  
> anyway do leave comments and feedback!!! i was very nervous posting this jfghdkjg,, and I KNow not that much Chris but a very needed chapter for the next few


	11. the one where a cynic and an optimist hide in a bathroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chris is just a wholesome ball of sunshine here so heres some floof and naz deals w anxiety

Getting out of that office was the best thing Naz had done for her mental health in a solid two weeks. She felt her heart racing, as she leaned back against the wall outside the office. She needed to find Chris,  _ now _ .

What would he say? Would still he want to continue the annulment? Would he laugh in her face and leave her out on her ass to fend for herself? Give her a pity smile and guilt her into signing away her life in the States? 

Toronto wasn’t bad, she told herself, pacing back to the office Chris was in. It would be nice to go back. The culture was different. People were a bit nicer. But it was fucking cold. Not that she didn't like winter, she did, but twenty four years of it was enough and now she was used to being toasty warm even in the heart of January. And she liked how people in  LA would fuck off. She honestly loved LA. She loved her friends, even her stupid sister. And Fugue! He couldn’t survive a plane ride! This would be the end of her world.

She could go back to Calgary, she supposed, for familiarity’s sake. Stay with her parents for a bit. But she nearly groaned at just the thought. Even if it were only a few months, her mother would never let her live down the time she flashed a nipple at the Ultron premiere. Besides, even her parents weren’t always home. Old people and their world travelling, since her father’s retirement, they pretty much only came home for Christmas. 

But hinged on what Chris would say. If he told her he wanted nothing to do with this, would Todd be able to stop the weird eagle dude on his tirade to get Naz charged with fraud? She supposed she did get herself into that one.

She stood now, in front of the office she had first met up with Chris and Jen outside of. She took a deep breath. Oh, how she wished she just had his number. She would be able to inconspicuously text him. But, she did not. Another terrible decision on her part, trying to stay as far away from him as possible. Burn all bridges, lose all connections. 

How well that had turned out. 

Raising her hand, she went to knock, but stopped herself. She needed to breathe. Sighing, she tried again. Two sharp knocks.

The door swung, and there sat Jen and Chris. They smiled, gesturing she enter the room. 

“Hey, Judge Garber said she’d be right back,” Chris said. “Come sit.”

Naz saw the papers were on the desk. Everything was ready to go. They just needed her signature. 

But, still, Naz stayed frozen. Rooted to the spot, clutching her purse in one hand and stared, with wide eyes at the three of them. 

She couldn’t make words. No matter how hard she tried to get her brain to work. She just couldn't get anything to come out. And now they probably all thought she was immensely ridiculous. 

Chris was definitely going to annul her. Fuck. So long, Golden State.

“Naz?” He said, breaking the silence. “You alright?” 

Naz stayed rooted to the spot. God, why wouldn’t her feet move!? Or her mouth. Make words for the love of all things--

“Are you alright?” He asked again, standing up, abruptly, buttoning up his suit jacket.

Jen looked extremely concerned. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” Naz had no idea where that came from, but was grateful. She cleared her throat. “Could, I, uh… Talk to you. Outside?” She asked, hoping Chris would see the pleading in her eyes. 

“Of course.” His brows furrowed, but he didn’t hesitate a second. “Excuse me.” He said to the judge and Jen, the latter who looked like she was about to have a stroke.

Once the door was shut behind them, Chris turned to Naz. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? What happened?” 

She looked around, desperately, before grabbing his hand. “Not here.”

“What?” 

“Not here, just come.” 

She stalked through each hallway, dragging Chris by the hand, her heels clicking loudly on the marble floor, before finding a ladies room. Scoping the premises again, she rushed inside, pulling an anxious and protesting Chris behind her. 

“Naz, tell me what’s going on.” He said, nervously, as Naz rushed through the bathroom, bending to see if anyone was in the stalls. Once cleared, she turned to the main door and locked it. 

She moved to the sinks, throwing her purse down and breathing heavy. “I think I’m have an anxiety attack.” She said, running her hands under the water and trying to cool herself down. 

Chris rushed to her side and rubbed her back. “What can I do? What helps?” 

“I don’t know,” Naz breathed, heavy and ragged. “I rarely have them, I’m usually home. Christ.” She cursed.

“Hold on.” Chris worked quickly. First, he shrugged his suit jacket off, folded it and placed it on the counter. Next, he bent down and tapped Naz’s ankles “Heels, off.” 

She mentally thanked herself for wearing those socks that were specifically made for heels. He tugged them off her, laying them on the floor. 

Standing up straight he rolled his sleeves up, and ran his hand under the water, before placing it on her forehead. “Tell me five things you see.” 

“Huh?” 

“Five things you see. It's a trick that helps me.”

Naz looked around. “The painting on the wall. There's a scratch on the mirror. You have a lot of freckles.” She twisted her neck to find something else. “Marble tile. Hole in my sock.”

“Good. Now give me four things you hear.”

“Vent. My breathing. Talking outside. The water running.” 

“Three things you can touch.” 

“Counter, water,” She lifted her hand to Chris’ dress shirt. “You. You're warm.” 

He smiled, “Two things you smell.”

“That toilet in the corner.” Chris barked a laugh. “Your cologne.” 

“One thing you can taste.” 

Naz licked her lips. “My lipstick.” 

“Good. How do you feel?” 

She took one last deep breath. “Better. Shit. A lot better.” She was still stressed the fuck out, but her breathing was even and she didn't feel her heart racing as much. “Thank you, for that. Fuck.” 

“Fellow sufferer of unwarranted brain noise. Now,” He paused, leaning against the wall behind him. “Can you tell me what’s going on? Is it the annulment? Are you having second thoughts? Did something happen with your lawyer?”

Where did she even begin? God. What a mess she had made. 

“That’s a lot of questions at once.” 

“Sorry. Take your time.” 

Hypotheticals. That’s where she would start.

“Okay…. So, say, I don’t want the to get the annulment. Like, right now, anyway. What would you do?”

Chris shook his head. “I would be confused, I thought you wanted this?”

Naz swallowed. “What if we have to stay married?”

He shook his head.“I would, again, be confused.” He repeated. “I wouldn’t understand why.” He looked like he wanted to say more. “Can you just tell me what’s going on?”

Naz sighed. “My work visa, apparently when I left for London during press, that breached the terms. My citizenship and permanent residency applications fell through, as a result.”

Chris’s featured softened, slightly. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Naz.” He continued rubbing her back, but that just made her want to cut and run. 

“I’m gonna have to leave. Re-apply from Toronto. Or Calgary.” She said. “Unless…”

“Unless…” He said, hesitantly.

“Unless I apply for spousal.”

“What?”

“I sort of...” She cleared her throat, breaking away from his embrace. “I embellished. I told them I was married. Which technically, I am, but…”  

Chris was beginning to understand. “Wait,” He said. “Let me get this straight. You told an immigration agent, someone who could literally charge you with fraud for pulling shit like this, that you were married to avoid-”

“To avoid being sent back to Canada and have my life flipped upside down, yes.” Naz finished, groaning. “It wasn’t my best moment, but I was sort of at a fight or flight.” 

Chris took a step back, leaving a foot of distance between them, which Naz was equal parts disappointed and relieved by. He leaned against the counters. “Wow. Well, I can honestly say I didn’t see this coming.”

“Yeah, neither did I.” 

He lowered his head, thinking. 

Naz knew she needed to let him process this, but they also had annulment papers in the process of being signed, and an evil bird looking man after her. “So…” She started. “I would let you think about whether you want to do this for me, but I kinda need an answer now, so I can warn my lawyer in case he needs to defend me against fraud charges--”

“No, of course.” Chris said immediately, grabbing her hand. “I mean, it was fucking stupid, immensely, terribly lacking sane, rational thought--”

Naz rolled her eyes. “I know that.”

“And, you could’ve at least texted me a heads up--”

“Don’t have your number. And look, it’ll be fine if you don't want to do this. I’ll go back to Calgary, spend some time with my parents, I guess, figure it out on that side of the border and just--”

“Naz.”

“You really don't have to, I got myself into this mess, and I wouldn't want to impose--”

“God, are you listening to yourself? Have you never had a friend?”

She furrowed her brows. “Huh?”

“A friend. Someone who helps you out when you need it, regardless of if it benefits them.”

Instead of delve into her disarray of emotional incapability, Naz said. “I know the definition of a friend, thanks.”

Chris chuckled. “Sure, you do. Of course I’ll do this for you, Naz.”

Naz let out a sigh of relief. “Really?”

Chris cracked a smile. “Yeah, really. You’re my friend. I’m not gonna throw you out on your ass when you need help. It’s the least I can do.”

“You know, I kind of feel ‘the least you could do’ things are like, buying me a muffin, but sure, I totally agree marriage to avoid deportation is a very close second.” 

“Very funny.” 

“So...”

“We’re staying married.” He shrugged. “And look, you’re clearly gonna have enough shit you need to deal with. So just, tell me what I gotta sign, and I’ll sign. When everything works out, we’ll revisit the annulment.”

“We’re staying married.” She repeated.

He brought his arms around her, embracing her tiny frame. “Yes we are.”

Naz pulled back, “What about Jen?” 

“What  _ about _ Jen?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Well…” Naz started. “She clearly doesn’t trust me… And this doesn't really… Help.” 

“You don't worry about Jen. It's my life and my business. Not hers.” 

“Okay." Naz paused. "You'd be very easy to commit fraud on. I mean, not that I want to change your mind or anything for, you know, saving my ass. But seriously, as an HR rep, you're so… trusting. Not expected from your profession at all.”

“I’m a rare breed.” Chris smirked.

Naz smiled. “It's all very unnerving. You're all… Rainbows and sunshine.”

“I do try, Naz. I do try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u SOoOO much for reading!!! comments make me happy and write faster!!


	12. the one with the talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some background/stage setting for the next couple chapters!

Giving Chris her number was the stupidest thing Naz had ever done. She knew this with every fibre in her being and receiving that single text from him confirmed it even more.

It was a beautiful day, until she received those three tiny little words. 

**_Can we talk_ **

Her heart raced. It was terrible. Worse than her eighth grade crush dumping her through a note in class. She couldn't believe herself, and felt incredibly juvenile sitting upside down on her bed with her phone in one hand and Fugue in the other, frantically racking her brain for any fucking reason Chris would need to desperately talk to her about that didn't include the words “we need a divorce.” 

Her phone buzzed again.

**_Sorry, that was incredibly ominous. Dodge knocked my phone out of my hand before I could finish. Can we talk tonight? I have a few things to tell you. We could do dinner?_ **

She sighed. Okay. So giving Chris her number wasn't  _ absolutely _ terrible. 

_ i'm down, but can we stay in? totally drained  _

**_Right. My place, then?_ **

**_Or yours_ **

**_Doesn't matter_ **

_ fugue’s been throwing fits. your place sounds good.  _

It was true. Fugue was currently curled up in her arms but five minutes earlier he was receiving a stern talking to for chewing up half of Naz’s closet when she was in the shower. It would be better not to have more people he didn't really know (or like) in her apartment. 

**_Lol. Okay, sweet. 7?_ **

_ good with me, address? _

Chris sent her all the info, and Naz was set. 

**_You know Dodger’s pretty big, right?_ **

_ yes?  _

**_Just making sure you're good with that._ **

_ my dream way to die is to be tackled by a giant ball of fur. i'm ready.  _

**_Haha. He wouldn't hurt a fly._ **

_ lol i'm kidding, chris  _

_ fucking love dogs _

**_Awesome. He's excited to meet you :)_ **

**_See you tonight_ **

\--

“So, let me get this straight.” Kira began, as Naz put on the last of her makeup. “You're going over to his house. For dinner. He's probably cooking for you. Vegetarian food. Specially. For you.”

“Pretty sure he's a vegetarian too. Not that special.” Naz cut in.

“You guys are married, and you're trying to tell me you're  _ not _ going to fuck him, again?” 

Naz shut her bronzer compact. “Exactly! Good job, Kira, it’s only taken you 24 years to master the art of listening.” 

Kira rolled her eyes. “You're an idiot. What's the point? Why are you seeing him again? You start work together tomorrow don't you.”

Naz scoffed. “He had some shit he wanted to talk about. You really think I’m the type to talk about my business at work? I pretended I didn't know you when you showed up on set.” 

“Cause you're a dick.” Kira said, bluntly.

Naz smiled. “You're not wrong.” She finished up her lipstick and turned to Kira. “Now, how do I look?”

“You're planning to fuck him, aren't you.” Kira said, excitedly. 

“No.” Naz shrugged. “Just, whatever? Alright? If shit happens, it happens.” “Right. Not like you tragically need the dude to keep yourself from being sent back to Canada.”

Naz grabbed her clutch. “What do you mean?” 

“Your wearing a boob shirt.” 

“No I’m not.”

“Our grandmother could see your cleavage from Chennai.” 

“Look.” Naz started. “I haven't had sex since Vegas. I have needs, Kira and, unlike you, I usually need a little bit of substance to feel inclined fuck someone.” 

“Substance like tequila?”

“Substance like a personality.”

“You almost fucked Kristen Stewart.”

“Exactly. Almost.” Naz said, matter of factly. “Anyway, my point is. If something happens, let’s just say I’m ready. I’m clear on the fact I'm not planning it. But,” She shrugged again. “Who knows?” 

Kira nodded. “And all I’m saying is, you go bitch. If pussy is your way out of a one way ticket to Toronto, more power to you.” 

“I truly, truly, hate you.”

\--

Wine bottle in hand, Naz found herself outside Chris’s door a few minutes past seven. She didn't want to be early, that seemed a bit much, but she didn't want this night to take forever either. So 7:03 it was when her cab pulled up. His house was tucked away atop Hollywood Hills, a gorgeous contemporary ranch, gated off and alone. It walked the line of modest enough and a clear getaway from the hectic life of Hollywood. No enormous fountains or excessive landscaping. A small Buddha statue sat by the steps, though, to which Naz smiled. She rang the doorbell and saw through the glass panels a large dog bounding towards the door, followed by Chris. 

The door swung open and Naz was met by Dodger, half her height on all fours, rocketing into her crotch. 

“Fuck, Dodge!” Chris reprimanded, pulling him back by the collar, as Naz tried to regain her footing. She was so happy she opted for sneakers today. “Sorry,” Chris laughed. “He's a sniffer.”

Naz took one look at Dodger’s face, tongue out and panting, as his nails slipped on the hardwood, attempting to break free from Chris’s grasp. “Hold on.” Naz said, setting down the bottle of wine and her purse on the floor. She kicked off her sneakers, and straightened back up. “Okay let him at me!” 

“You sure?” Chris laughed. “You're gonna end up on the floor.” 

“Oh, come on, Chris.” Naz knelt next to Dodger, a huge smile spreading across her face. “Oh my God, who’s such a good boy?” She cooed, scratching his head and ears eagerly. “You're just one excited big baby aren't you! Hi Dodger, hello, yes hi, do you smell Fugue?” Her baby voice was coming out. God she loved dogs.

“Jeez.” Chris exhaled. “You're so good with him. He calmed right down.” 

“What did I tell you about fucking loving dogs?” Naz said, standing up again without stopping her affectionate scratching of Dodger. 

“Honestly, I’m a little amazed. I don't think I’ve ever seen you this happy.” Chris noted.

Naz rolled her eyes. “I brought red?” She said, lifting up the wine bottle. 

“Great, I made pasta. You like Italian?” 

“I married you, didn't I? However, I suppose that wasn't with active consideration.” 

Chris barked a laugh, leading her into his home. “Funny. You're a funny lady.” 

His home was absolutely stunning. Earth tones everywhere, soft lighting with large open areas. It still managed to look cozy, though, with throws on the fabric sofas and rugs that matched. The kitchen maintained the open, earthy concept, with a huge window that spanned the kitchen and living room that overlooked the hills. “Wow.” Naz smiled, making her way to the window. “What a view.” 

“It's nice to wake up to, that's for sure.” 

“Low fences, though? Is that okay with Dodger?” 

“Yeah, he mainly sits in the sun back there.” Chris nodded to the backyard. “Such a good dog, honestly. I don't have to worry about him chasing rabbits or birds or anything, he just chills out. I can grab that from you.” He said of the wine. 

“Bread’s almost done in the oven.” 

“You didn't have to cook.” 

Chris raised a brow, bringing over two plates to the table. “Did you expect no dinner when I invited you over for dinner?” He laughed.

“No, I mean like, we could've ordered in. I didn't want to make you feel obligated to cook for me.” 

“Did you tell me to cook for you?” He asked.

“No, but-”

“Exactly.” He shrugged. “No obligations, sweetheart. Don't worry. Anyway, go wash up. Bathroom’s around the corner and to your right.” 

Naz nodded, petting a playful Dodger on the head, before heading off to the washroom. 

She washed her hands and leaned against the counter. Why was he being so… Nice? He was her friend, he said, but he cooked her homemade dinner and called her sweetheart and they had had sex before. Her brain ached. That natural aptitude he had for charm and his flirtatious nature was not easy to decode. Would she have to write a fucking letter to him? Do you want to fuck? Check yes or no.

She returned to the kitchen where two steaming plates of vegetable rigatoni pasta sat at the table, with bread on the side. Chris was washing up in the kitchen sink, before he came over to Naz and pulled out her chair. “I got it.” She mumbled.

“I know, sorry. Habit.” 

He sat down beside her and poured her a glass of wine. 

“You're not having one?”

Chris shook his head. “Confession, I hate red.” He laughed. “I'm a beer guy. You know that. Maybe a whiskey or scotch guy when it comes to dinner. I'll even go for a white wine.”

Naz feigned offence. “Oh my God.” She laughed. “I’m sorry, didn't know you hated red. Refers back to your terrible taste though.” 

“Funny, but no, don't worry. It’s weird. Most people like red.”

“I feel shitty, I should've asked.” 

Chris shrugged, “What if you hated pasta? We’re both inconsiderate and terrible, it's why we work.” He laughed, with a wink.

Naz smiled. But she couldn't help but feel the nagging of what was to come. “So.” She started, “You wanted to talk?” Might as well get it over with.

“Yeah,” Chris said. “I mean, we can wait till after dinner if you'd like.” 

“When have I ever liked to wait for terrible news?” Naz scoffed. “This pasta is so good, by the way, what the fuck.” 

“Thanks,” Chris smirked. “But what makes you think it's terrible news?” 

“‘Can we talk’ is almost always code for ‘get ready to cry’” 

Chris chuckled, “Oh my God, no. It's nothing huge. I just felt, you know, with work coming up tomorrow and a few other things, considering our position we should get some things out in the open.” 

“I get the work thing.” Naz said. “But what other stuff?” 

He swallowed his pasta, slowly. “Okay, so after Vegas, I ran into my ex, Jenny, with a couple friends.” 

Naz felt her heart drop. Terrible news was right. 

“Can I be frank with you?” 

“Yeah, course.” Naz said, gulping down her wine as subtle as possible. 

“Alright, so we slept together, and it looked like we might get back together for a bit there.” He sounded so sad. “But I obviously wanted to be honest with her, so I let her know of like, our situation.” He gestured between himself and Naz. 

“Right.” 

“We both agreed a few days ago, maybe it isn't the best time to get back together, considering I mean, it didn't really work out last time with all the added jumble of her divorce.” 

“Right,” Naz repeated. “But this isn't a real marriage.” 

“Yeah, obviously, but it's still… Not good timing.” 

“I wouldn't want you to give up the love of your life for better timing, though, Chris.” Naz said, trying to mask her dejection. “Like, if its just the technicalities of our marriage, I can talk to Jenny, if she's comfortable.” 

“No, no.” Chris said, quickly. “Don't get me wrong, I appreciate it. But it's not… Really,  _ just  _ that?” He looked like he wanted to say more. “Anyway, long story short, I just wanted to be upfront with you about it.” 

Naz nodded, drinking more of her wine. “Course, and I appreciate that, but Chris, you don't really have to. I don't want you to feel like you owe some obligation to me because we’re staying married. Like, I want you to live your life.” 

“So, you're okay with us seeing people?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I mean, I’m not sure if I’ll have time, quite frankly, but you don't owe me an explanation or anything. We’re not really in a relationship. We’re friends, and you're doing me this huge favour.” Naz had finished her wine now. “And I’m so thankful for that, I couldn't ask you for any more.” 

“Alright.” He said, nodding. “Makes sense. Right.” 

“I would just say for the sake of Marvel and the immigration agents watching the fuck out of me, try to keep it on the down low?”

“Of course.” 

“Did you have something more to say?” Naz asked. 

“Well,” He got up, the pasta now finished, clearing the plates. “Work stuff, mainly.” 

“Yeah,” Naz followed him to the sink. “Hey, I got it. You cooked.” 

“Yeah, and you're my guest.”

“When you were my guest, you did the dishes.” 

“Naz.”

“Move over, big boy.” She shoved him with her hip and Chris laughed. “Gimme the dish.” 

“Fine.” He leaned back against the counter. “You probably have to file this with HR, right? Cause we need it to look legitimate for the papers.” 

“Yeah, I would.” Naz sighed.

“You hate this, don't you.” 

“Honestly, Chris, I really, truly hate my job.” Naz said. “It's been like that for a while, now.” 

“What did you want to do?” 

Naz set down the last of the dishes on the rack and dried off her hands. “What do you mean?”

“Did you go to college?” Chris asked. “Any dreams, goals, shit like that, before this job?” 

“Yeah, I did. I did a BA in creative writing in Toronto.” 

Chris smiled. “Wow! That's cool!” 

“Yeah, it was fun.” 

He led her to sofa behind them and tapped him lap for Dodger to join him. Naz sat beside him. 

“So, creative writing, and now you're in HR, how'd that happen?”

Naz shrugged. “I dunno. I took a couple years off when I finished my BA. I minored in business to make the whole creative writing thing seem more employable. Kira was starting her BA here at UCLA and I figured I would just come out here with her. See what jobs I could get.” 

“But in creative writing?” Chris asked.

“Yeah, that was the goal. But I needed a job, and doing HR was easy. Actors have so much fucking drama.” She snorted. “I dunno. What was supposed to be a part time thing turned into my life.”

“And what was supposed to be a fling turned into your husband.” Chris added, with a laugh. “It's a little ironic, isn't it?” 

Naz scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

“Wait, so what does Kira do?” 

“She's doing her Masters in political theory right now.” 

“No fucking way.” Chris barked. “Wow.”

Naz nodded, chuckling. “Yes way, she's a fucking piece of work. Honestly no one would guess, she acts like such an idiot sometimes.”

“Wow.” Chris said again. “Amazing, seriously.” 

“Looks like you picked the worse sibling.” Naz teased.

“Funny. But really, what did you want to do with creative writing? Fiction? Novels?” 

“You'll laugh.”

“When have I ever, when it's important?”

“Fine. Screenwriting.” 

“Why would I laugh at that! Seems completely practical.” 

“Yeah, well. I don't know. I'm in this weird rut in my life. I'm almost thirty, my best friends ditching me for her beautiful husband. My sisters an actual scholar, my husband is fake, and now I’ve gone and created, like 26 new problems for myself, that's gonna fuck up my job even more. And my bird is going through a midlife crisis.” 

“Hey,” Chris said, softly. “Look at me.”

Naz turned over to look at him.

One hand came up to cradle her face and Chris smiled. “You can do this. And I’m gonna be right here with you.” 

“Yeah. You're right.” 

“And don't bitch about being almost thirty, it's making me feel old.” 

Naz chuckled. “Sorry,”

"So, you'll file us as a couple with HR. We'll workout when we need to make an appointment with the immigration agent."

"We'll need to fake-couple it." Naz said, tentatively.

"Oh, I know it. We have practice, though, so I'm not worried." 

"Haha. Very funny." Naz inhaled. "Okay, I'm being frank now."

"Shoot"

"Sex"

Chris threw his head back, laughing.

"Not that funny." Naz said, indignantly. 

"It's not, really."

"No sex. Between us, anyway." 

"Damn, I liked the first version better."

"I'm sure you do, you liked it so much you broke your penis."

Chris winced.

"We're friends. That friends with benefits shit never works."

"We're also married." Chris said with a smirk.

Naz rolled her eyes. "Whatever."  


"I'm kidding. No sex. No problem. For _me,_ anyway."

First, with a whack to his shoulder, Naz couldn't help but smile. "If anyone on set asks?"

"Family and very close friends, truth. Friends and others, change subject, fling?"

"Good with me."

"Nice, alright. Now," He stretched forward, shooing Dodger off his lap. " Wanna watch a movie?” He asked. 

Naz thought about it for a moment. She knew she would be too tempted to do something more than just watch the movie, and even if that was as small as cuddling with him, she couldn't bring herself to compromise what they had so far as… Friends. 

“I’d love to, but…” 

“I hate the but.” 

“You love butts, stop.” 

“Shut up.” Chris laughed.

“I should go. Call a cab, or uber or something.” Naz said, getting up. “Work tomorrow.” 

“Right. Let me give you a ride.” 

“Chris, that's fine, you don't have to.”

“I want to.”

“Should I keep the bottle?” Naz said, jutting her chin out to the bottle of red sitting alone on the table.

“Up to you. If I keep it at least you know I’ll always have something you'll actually drink, that's not a beer, when you come over for dinner.”

Naz cocked a brow. “When I come over?” She said. “There's going to be multiple times of you cooking for me?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart. We’re friends.” 

“Friends.”

“Who happen to be married.” He added, standing up and grabbing his keys off the counter. 

“Right.”

\--

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank u for reading lovessss <333 Comments make me so happy!!!!


	13. the one where naz teaches chris how to pronounce her name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick tw of workplace harassment!   
> in other news, chris learns he's been pronouncing naz's name wrong this whole time

The next day Naz had three appointments with Chris. First they headed back to work, had a few meetings in the morning followed by an appointment with HR, ironically, in order to file their status as a couple. Then, they needed to stop at her lawyer’s. Finally, the bird looking immigration agent had insisted that they have their interview today, but Naz was about 96% sure she was going to reschedule that one. Three appointments. Back to back to back. Chris, her partner in all of them, all fucking day. 

Had someone told Naz her life would’ve done a complete one-eighty in the span of two weeks, she would’ve scoffed. Snorted, downed a pina colada and said, incredulously “sure.” 

But it had. Largely thanks to Fugue, tequila and a beautiful man who seemed like he was an actual cartoon prince come to life. 

He had to have some flaws. Something in him that wasn’t inherently heroic. Maybe he picked his nose and shoved the boogers under tables. Or had a secret foot fetish. Spoke out of turn. Wasn’t a dog-loving, mama’s boy, best friend’s a woman, beast in bed, stays married to his one night stand, Canadian co-worker so she doesn’t get deported, kind of guy.

Except, annoyingly, he was. He was  _ exactly _ that. 

It truly drove Naz completely insane. She dealt with his friends shenanigans for years, and up until the penis break, and his snide comment about Black Widow a few years ago, there really wasn’t anything that tarnished his perfectly, imperfect, regular guy vibe. 

But Naz was… All over the place. And above all else she was cynical. It was, in fact, something she downright prided herself in. Not the willfully jittery and eccentric happiness that Kira embodied. Naz was grounded. Stable. She thought everything through. And she was flawed. She was controlling, immensely so, lectured more often than she listened, guarded, and she refused to fall head first. Into anything. 

So she was determined today, with three back to back interviews with Chris, to find every stupid little imperfection he had. Because she needed to. 

Because there was no way he was actually this fucking guy. Cause, quite honestly, if he was, why wasn’t she actually fucking this guy?

She pulled up in front of his house. Texting him quickly, she tapped impatiently at the steering wheel. Maybe he would be late. Tardiness. Fault. 

He knocked on the window, gesturing for her to unlock the car. 

“Dammit,” Naz muttered. She unlocked the car and he hopped in. 

“Hey, sweetheart, how’s it going?” 

She could’ve rolled her eyes, but that would’ve been rude. She restrained herself. “Hey, sorry its a bit of a mess in here.” She said, throwing her purse to the backseat. 

“No worries. Thanks for driving.” 

“No problem. I figure because two out of three of these interviews are my fault, I should be the one paying for gas,” She pulled out of his driveway and they were off.

Chris was sporting a t-shirt and some jeans, with his signature NASA cap on. “Work first?”

“Yep. We have a meeting with my lawyer at four-thirty, though.”

“Gotcha.”

“He wants to get the gist of what happened, plus thanks to attorney client-privilege he can give a whole picture of what this is going to end up looking like.”

“Right, right.” Chris nodded, tapping at his knee to the music. “Amy Winehouse, classic.” He commented. Great. He had good taste too. “And at work? Who are we meeting?”

Someone cut Naz off, before she could respond, to which Naz gave them the finger and shouted “Learn how to drive, asshole!”

Chris snorted. 

“Sorry.” She mumbled, shoulder checking. “Jackson McBride. He’s my direct superior. Since I’m the technical head of my department I needed to see legal and check the books as to who would be qualified.”

“Makes sense. Is he nice?” 

“He’s not,  _ not _ nice.” Naz said.

Chris pursed his lips. “Great.”

\--

The morning was long. There was one meeting for actors and crew that happened together. Chris stood next to Sebastian and Anthony, and Naz stayed with the crew and administration. Separately. He gave her a small wave from across the conference room, and she smiled back. She wished she wasn't so lonely at work. It had benefited her up until this point, never having to make friends, keeping everything professional. But now she had this huge half-secret and no one to confide in at work. She would be lying if she said it didn't make her feel a bit sad. When the meeting finished, and actors and crew split off into two sections, Chris came by and gave her a squeeze on the arm. It was the smallest thing, but it eased so much of her stress. A tiny “I’m here, we’re doing this together” let Naz release a sigh of relief. 

The appointment with HR went as to be expected. Jackson was straightforward, and after signing away what felt like her soul and her dignity, Naz headed to her office, with Chris saying he planned on stopping by at the social in Downey’s area for a few minutes. He promised he’d be back at Naz’s office by four, giving them enough time to head over to her lawyer’s. 

To her disdain, Kyle Bradshaw stood in the hallway between her and her office door. Kyle Bradshaw was an actor, not a very good one, but a conventionally attractive one. He played some minor character in Infinity War, who Naz wasn’t bothered to learn the name of. He was also a Grade A Dick, which Naz knew firsthand, having filed several complaints brought up by, mainly, female workers who found him crude, insensitive and ignorant. 

He walked the line of almost-harassment-not-quite-yet which enabled him to be protected and coddled by higher ups. Recasting was a bitch, and no amount of evidence Kyle was a horrible douche, was going to change that fact to the engine of the company. 

He whistled at her when she walked past him. Naz rolled her eyes, spinning around and restraining herself from flipping him off. “Kyle.”

“Naz. Always a pleasure.”

“You’re testing my patience.” She said, through gritted teeth.

Kyle laughed. “Oh come on, I just wanted to congratulate you.”

Naz raised a brow, “On?”

“Your hubby. It was all over the tabloids.”

“Really, that’s none of your business.” 

“No need to get your panties in a bunch, just being friendly.” 

“Right, and catcalling is your version of friendly.” 

Kyle shook his head, scoffing. “Don’t blow it out of proportion, alright?”

“Keep walking, Kyle,” God she fucking hated him. 

“Come on, sweetheart.” He said, and Naz tried not to gag. Hearing that word come out of anyone except Chris’s respectful mouth was vomit worthy. “So what’d it take to get you to ease up? I was beginning to think you didn't even like men.” 

Naz snorted. “Yeah, well. I don't tend to date people who've had a nasty history of abusing their power.” 

“You know I’m just playing around.” He defended. “Some of the women on this set just blow it out of proportion.” 

“Something wrong?” Chris’s voice came from behind Naz, his hand appearing on her shoulder. She felt relief wash over her.

“Nah,” Kyle smirked. “Just saying congrats to you love birds.” And with that he walked away. It amazed her how much he deferred to another man’s presence but refused to respect hers or any of her female coworkers, actors and crew alike. 

“God he makes me so fucking livid.” Naz muttered, turning to Chris.

“Yeah,” Chris agreed. “Bit of a douche.” 

“You have no idea.” Naz grabbed her purse from her office and turned back to Chris. “You ready to go?” 

“Yeah, let's do this.” 

\--

They had arrived at Todd’s office, and Naz led Chris up to the seventh floor. 

Todd welcomed them both in, not before the receptionist shamelessly flirted with Chris. Naz remained unimpressed.

“So.” Todd said, beckoning both Chris and Naz to sit down. “Tell me the truth. What’s happening here?” 

“Well…” Chris started.

“We got drunk in Vegas two weeks ago and got married.” Naz said. “We know each other through work.”

“I’m an actor.” Chris said. “We didn’t really know each other at all up until about three weeks ago.” 

“And when you told me you were married?” Todd asked. 

“We were.” Chris said, “But we were just about to end it.”

“He didn’t know we would stay married. We had planned to annul.” Naz thought about that day. It seemed like forever ago now, but it was only a few days ago when he had hugged her tight and whispered he would be there for her no matter what. 

“And now?”

“I’m here for her.” Chris said, again. She felt a tug in her heart. “We never went through the annulment, because it didn’t make sense to. This problem had a solution. Whatever she needs, I’m here. I’ll play husband.” 

Naz was going to punch herself in the face. 

“That’s very selfless of you, Chris, and I don’t mean to disregard your act of kindness,” Todd said “but with that being said, Naz, we should remain proactive, so Chris if you wouldn’t mind signing some paperwork that guarantees your position right now, and protects Naz from any future claims of coercion or falsification of marriage.”

Naz wanted to interject, on a deep level. She saw the slight fall in Chris’s expression and worried he would decline. He was within his right, but she knew Todd had a good point. Her rational overtook her emotions. “I’m sorry, Chris, if you’re not comfortable I get it--”

“No, no.” He shook his head, hand coming over to Naz and resting on her thigh “I said tell me what to sign and I’ll sign. He’s just protecting you.” 

“Alright, good. Now that that’s settled let’s get to business then, shall we?” Pulling out a massive binder, Todd began to flip through it. “Firstly, you guys need to convince the immigration agent that this isn’t fraudulent. So you’ll need to be familiar with each other’s lives, with a pretty thorough understanding.” 

“How hard can that be?” Chris scoffed. 

“We’ll see. Let’s start with something easy. Chris how do you pronounce Naz’s full name.”

“Naz-ah-nin. Right?” He turned to Naz, who inhaled deeply. 

Todd grimaced. “You guys might want to postpone the meeting with the immigration officer for another day.”

“Wait, what!? It’s not Naz-ah-nin?” Chris said with disbelief.

“It’s Nuz, Nuz-uh-nin.” Explained Naz. “My nickname doesn’t actually phonetically make sense. Extra emphasis on the Nuz, uh-nin is quick together.”

“Nuz-ah-nin.”

“Nuz-uh-nin”

“Nuz-uh-neen”

“No, nin.”

“Nuz. Uh. Nin.”

“Exactly, now, together.”

“Nuz- _ uh _ -nin”

“No,  _ Nuz _ -uh-nin”

“Nuz- _ uh _ \- fuck me--”

“Let’s try something else.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter, but guess who already has the next one written... as always comments make me happy!!! <33 thanks for reading angels!!!


	14. the one where chris is dreamy I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldn't wait to post this chapter so here she is!!! slow burn is burnin' up........

\--

By the time Naz pulled up at Chris’s home it was just past seven in the evening. They had spent the last two and a half hours with Todd helping them go through tips and tricks to manage the interview with the immigration agent. Naz had stepped out to call and reschedule said meeting. They booked the appointment with the immigration officer for later in the week, noting the sheer lack of knowledge both of them had of the other, with Chris helplessly trying to master Naz’s last name now. She insisted it was fine, but he was adamant. “Shut up.” He had said, “you don’t call me Chrysler Evens, what gives me the right to fuck up your name?” 

Nodding at his terrible analogy, Naz sighed. 

She parked in front of his house and stretched her arms up, feeling her bones ache. “God, I’m exhausted.”

“Do you want to come in?” Chris asked. “I figure you probably want to head home, but I’m kind of freaking out about the immigration interview, right about now.” His face was tired, but an unfamiliar look of sheer terror Naz hadn’t seen before graced his beautiful features.

Naz laughed, trying to ease the tension. “Yeah. Sure. We should definitely get it together.”

“I'll order food.” He said, hopping out of the car. “What are you feeling?” 

“Let’s go with pizza and make it simple.” 

“Sounds good.” 

\--

Two large custom veggie pizzas later, Naz and Chris sat on his sofa, with the enormous binder Todd had given them. Sheets were sprawled out everywhere. 

“Quiz time!” Chris exclaimed. “How many tattoos do I have.”

“Fuck, I know this,” She did, she had seen them firsthand. “Two…?”

“No.”

“Three…?”

“No.”

“...Four?” 

“Naz if you don't know you can't just keep guessing and hope you're right.” 

“Fine.” She said, starting on another slice of pizza, to which Dodger quirked his head and pawed at her thigh. “Dodger, stop it, baby.” 

“Excuse me, pal, we’re trying to eat, you big goof.” Chris cooed, scratching Dodger’s head, affectionately. 

Naz grumbled in defeat. “Fine. I don't know. How many tattoos?” 

“Five, but I used to have six.” 

“Really? I know this one.” She tapped her own clavicle. “And the one on your arm.”

“Two on my arms, actually. One on my ankle.  And one removed, just here--” He twisted his bicep so she could see the outline of the scar. 

“Why’d you remove it?” Naz asked.

“Got it when I was really young, never really loved it, and it was always a bitch to cover up. The shoulder ones hide under most t-shirts. Plus, isn't it such a douchebag position?” He chuckled, flexing obnoxiously. “Like ‘wow look at me and my fucking guns.’” 

Naz giggled. It was disgusting. She couldn't believe it, an actual fucking giggle. “Where else?” She smiled, shifting her position so she lay next to him on the large sofa. 

“Here.” He pointed to his chest, under his right pec. 

“Oooo.” Naz quirked a brow. “The underboob. Naughty.” 

He gave her a half smile. “For one of my best friends who's not with me, anymore.” 

Naz felt her heart sink. She reached out and intertwined her fingers with his. “I'm sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.” He looked up at her through thick lashes. “We should go to the next question.” 

Naz twisted her body to grab another sheet. “Place of birth?”

“Boston. But I grew up in Sudbury. You?”

“Calgary. Had family in Edmonton too, so I was there quite a bit. A traitor in the books too, because I would rather die for the Oilers than the Flames.” 

“An NHL fan!? How classically Canadian of you.” 

“You like the Bruins? I've seen you in that Leafs hat. Always been curious if you were a traitor too.” 

Chris smirked. “Sort of? When Boston does shit or doesn't make playoffs I watch Toronto. It's a safe team, you know? I don't get too much shit from my buddies, like I would if I watched the Canadiens or something.” 

“Strategic. I ride or die for my Oilers. When they do shit all, I’m still rooting for them because I’m loyal.” She prodded at his tattoo that spelt out  _ LOYALTY _ and Chris barked a laugh. 

“Also, I get that you appreciate loyalty and all, enough to get it stamped on your body forever,” Naz said. “But like. You couldn't have picked a different font? Or like… Told them to make it lowercase? Baby, it looks like a mess.” 

Chris shook his head. “I was young, okay? I learned!” He said, pointing at his clavicle tattoo. 

“Sure you did.” Naz flipped through the binder. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Three. Carly’s the oldest, then there's me, Scott and Shanna.” 

“Middle child, explains a lot.” 

“Shut up.” Chris laughed. “How about you? Just Kira?”

“Yeah, I’m the oldest.”

“And your parents? Together, divorced?”

“Together, 35 years now I think?” 

“Wow.” 

“It's crazy when you think about it. Like. That's a half a lifetime with someone.”

Chris leaned back on the sofa. “Yeah, no shit. But I want that. Definitely.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Naz thought out loud. “I mean, everyone who enters a marriage, anyway.” She thought over what she just said, thinking about her situation and laughed shaking her head. “Everyone who wants a long term relationship accompanied by marriage.” She corrected.

Chris nodded, “I mean, naturally I would assume nobody idealizes divorce before a marriage begins. My parents divorced when I was 18. So it was at this point where I could see how well they thrived separately. Except my childhood was pretty idyllic, which I appreciate them for. I guess that’s why I dream about a relationship that’s... Unwavering in support and love.”

“You're the type that believes in love and soulmates aren't you?” Naz said. 

“What!? You don't?” He said, incredulously. 

“I do… I suppose. A less ideal version. Rosalie really sucked the life out of me, you would’ve loved Pre-Rosalie Naz. I used to be a hopeless romantic.” 

Chris shook his head, frowning. “Don't do that. Don't let her take away something so intrinsic to your being. If you believe in it fight for it.” 

“Fight for love. Me? The certified cynic?” 

“Who knows.” He said. “It'll sneak up on ya.” 

“But you? After a pretty recent break up you still believe in it?” Naz asked.

Chris pursed his lips.

“I'm sorry; you don't have to answer if you're not comfortable.”

“No, no.” He said, his hands animating as he spoke. “The break up was complicated, but to your question it was simple because love was really never the issue. I still love Jenny, I always will, she was a huge part of my life, an amazing person and a bright spirit. Love can be more than just romance and I truly believe that.” 

There was so much he had just unveiled Naz couldn’t think straight. So she just nodded. “Right. I get that.” She said. 

He swallowed, looking up at the ceiling. “With Jenny… the timing wasn't the best, considering she had really no time to be by herself after her marriage ended. And on top of that, I think she felt like it was a lot. She's not used to it, you know? The media attention, the bullying. Christ. Any sane person would've left.” 

“Stop it.” Naz insisted. “You're worth dealing with some petty paps and jealous sixteen year olds, Chris.”

“Oh, no. Don't get me wrong, she never said that was the main issue.” He played absently with Naz’s hair. “But it didn't help, I know that. And the way our lives worked separately, they didn't meld together. We did, as people we’re very similar. But it was more complicated than that.”

“And this time around? When you saw her a few days ago?”

“She thinks…” He thought a moment. “She doesn't think it's what I need. Not right now anyway.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think... she's right. There are… Other factors.” He averted his eyes again. “I have a question.” He said, abruptly, getting up to clear the papers around them and place the pizza in the fridge. 

“Tell me about creative writing. Screenplays. What do you want to write?” 

“Oh, God, we’re not doing this again.” Naz groaned.

“If you were to win an Oscar for the best original screenplay, what genre would it be?” He called out from the kitchen. 

“That question is not in the assigned papers.” 

He gave her his stupid puppy dog face. 

“Romantic-comedy.” She muttered. 

“Really!” He said, with very much the tone of a squeal. “That's a tough one!” 

“I know. That's why it makes literally no sense. When was the last time you saw a romantic-comedy win any critical accolades? Or even accolades in general, box office success, press attention.” She sighed. “It's a dying genre.”

“Honestly, I’m pretty heartbroken about that.” Chris said. “I love a good rom-com.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, and you're right about the lack of inherently good content in the realm of romantic comedy lately. And that's why you should write one. Revive the genre.” 

“Funny.”

“You know what,” He told her, joining her back on the sofa, “you write a rom-com so original and hilarious, I’ll star in it myself. With this beautiful widow’s peak? It'll demolish records.” 

Naz couldn't help but burst out laughing at this. She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. “Deal.” 

“I have another question for you.”

“Yes?”

Chris grinned. “You totally called me baby, a couple minutes ago.” 

Naz looked away, feeling the heat rush to her face. “No, I didn’t.”

“Oh, but you did.” 

“That wasn't even a question.”

“Why do you think you can always cop-out on a technicality?” 

“Because, I’m me.” She lifted her phone to check the time. “Besides, you call me sweetheart.”

“Because you are.” He said plainly. 

“I should go.” She mumbled, yawning. “It's late.”

“You could stay.” Chris said, resting his hand on her back. 

“Sleep here?” 

“If you're comfortable.”

“I guess,” Naz laughed, sinking back into the sofa and resting her hand on his chest. “You're warm.”

“Mm. So I’ve heard.” 

“Does Dodger need to be let out?” 

“No, he's good.”

“Do you need to set the alarm system or something?”

“Shhh, Naz.” 

“Hey…” Naz yawned, again. “Don't shush me.” 

Chris chuckled. “Sorry. Your brain noise is so loud I can hear it.” 

“Is that what you call anxiety?”

“Yeah.” He stretched out on the sofa, shifting them so Naz was practically lying on top of him. “You should try meditation or something, you're so wound up.” He said, rubbing her back. “I'm here, being warm and comfy. Do you need another blanket?” 

“No, I’m good like this.” Naz smiled, running her fingers through Chris’s hair. 

He let the silence fill the room for a moment. “You ever think about it?” He said.

She felt her body weigh down on the sofa. She could've lied to him. Like she had denied calling him baby. But she didn't. “Yes.” She said, honestly. “All the time.”

Chris’s eyes lit up. “Why not, then?” 

Naz shifted. She was too close to be having this conversation. She went to get up, but Chris touched her arm. “Come on. Don't go.” 

And as hard as she tried she couldn’t help herself sinking back into Chris’s frame. “It's complicated, Chris. You know that.” 

“But you've thought about it.” He said, again.

“I have, yes.” 

“When it's not complicated?” 

“I don't know.” Naz whispered.

He sighed. 

“I appreciate you, Chris. And everything you’re doing for me.” 

His lips came down and kissed her forehead, soft and with a tentative sweetness. “I know. I don’t want to fuck this up for you.”

“You won’t.”

He sighed. “You sure you’re comfortable?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

There was a loud snore from the end of the sofa where Dodger had been nuzzled.

Naz giggled. “Goodnight Dodge.” 

And she let herself shut her eyes and drift off to sleep in Chris’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading again!!!! next couple chapters are gonna be up shortly, and let me know what you think!!! comments make me super happy. <3333


	15. the one with the trudeau t-shirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because naz's track record says heck yeah tequila is a good idea

Sunlight streamed through the window directly into Naz’s field of vision. She squinted, suppressing a groan. Attempting to bring a hand up to her face to block the sun she was startled to realize her hand was stuck. What surprised her more was it was stuck under another hand. She cracked open her eyes ever so slightly, trying to remember the events of last night. 

It wasn't a dream. She thought maybe she had made it up. The laughing, the cuddling, the small confessions. But she mentally scolded herself for being so stupid. She was still at Chris’ house. Still in Chris’ arms. 

She had slept wonderfully, which surprised her. They had ended up spooning, sprawled on a decent sized sofa, her hoodie trapped under his body, still in her jeans from the night before. And he was so soft and warm and smelled like a woodsy candle. It was dreamy. 

She twisted her neck up and back to see him.

He was still sleeping, unbothered by the sunlight blinding them. 

He looked gorgeous. A little rough around the edges, his hair smushed at the top, a bit of sleep creeped out of the corner of his eyes, but nevertheless he was the most angelic man she had ever seen.

Her heart raced and she wanted to sink back into him and meld their bodies together.

Until her ass hit his morning wood, to which her eyes widened, and prompted her to extract herself from his body as quietly as possible. 

Tempting.

He huffed when the weight on the sofa shifted. “Morning.” He grumbled.

“Morning.” She whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, before yanking the end of her hoodie that was stuck under his body. 

“You leaving?” 

“Yeah, I gotta get home.” 

He opened his eyes slightly, looking up at Naz. “Can you wait a few? I'll get up and make breakfast.” 

“I shouldn't,” she said quickly. “Don't worry about it. I'll grab something on the way home.”

Chris took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes. He seemed too tired to protest. “Okay.” 

Dodger was wandering around the main floor, but hearing Chris’ voice brought him bounding back to the living room. Chris smiled, genuinely, turning over and scratching Dodger affectionately. He went to get up. 

“What’re you doing?” Naz asked.

“Gotta let Dodge out.” 

“I can do it.” 

Chris quirked a brow.

“I can do it, Chris.” Naz repeated, setting down her purse. “You go back to sleep.” She paused. “I know I snore.” He looked exhausted and every past partner Naz had ensured she knew she was the fucking worst to actually sleep with.

Chris bellowed a laugh, looking utterly relieved. “Oh, thank god, you know. You're like a fucking trucker. Right in my ear.” 

Naz rolled her eyes, sliding the patio door open for Dodger to go out. “Sorry.” She smiled, slightly. “I should've warned you before you offered to let me sleep over.” 

Chris smiled, sleepily. “It wasn't the end of the world. You’re incredible at spooning which definitely made up for it.”

“Hilarious.” She felt a brush creep up her neck. Dodger had returned and Naz let him back in. She looked up at the microwave clock. “I should go.” It was just past seven in the morning.

“Mm. Okay.” He was wrapping himself in the afghan as he spoke. He was so tired, she felt like such an asshole. Giving Dodger a kiss on the head, she grabbed her purse. 

Looking back at Chris on the couch she smiled.

“Sleep well, Chris.” She teased.

“Text me when you get home safe, okay?” 

Naz dropped her head, trying to keep the smile off her face. “’Course.”

\--

“Well, well, well. If it isn't my wonderful big sister, gracing my presence, post one night stand.” Kira tsked when Naz entered her home. She was sitting on Naz’s couch, a stack of papers on the coffee table.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Naz said, heading straight to the kitchen.

“Shut up. You spent the night at his place!” 

“Why aren't you ever at your own house?” Naz searched her fridge, surveying it for something to eat. She pulled her phone out.

_ To: Chris _

_ 7:34 AM:  _

_ home! sorry i didn't let you get much sleep last night. and sorry it wasn't even for a fun reason lol. _

“My roommates are stupid, and I have to grade all these papers in two days which they won't shut the fuck up long enough to let me do.” Kira said, “Now, tell me. What happened!?”

“I'll tell you if you promise not to make it a deal.”

“I promise, whatever.” She said.

“I just slept over.” Naz said, grabbing the soy milk, realizing it was nearly empty and chugging it directly from the jug. 

“You totally fucked him.”

“No. I didn't fuck him.”

Kira scoffed. “Yeah, right. If it's not that you totally  _ want _ to fuck him.

Naz sat down on her sofa, a banana in hand. She reflected on how she practically slept like a baby in Chris’s arms. “It's weird, Kira. I don't know what to do.” She said, biting her lip. “I definitely want to fuck him. But I also I wouldn't mind cuddling after, you know? Or going on walks on the beach. Like yeah, I definitely think about him… Doing other things. But it's gross. Not the fact I want him to fuck me raw, but gross that I would let him eat the last piece of cheesecake afterwards.”

“Wow. You have feelings for him.” Kira said, pointedly.

“It's not a good thing. What am I supposed to do? Ask him out? We’re married. And what if it goes to shit? We’re _still_ _married_.”

“But you admit you like him.”

“Friends don’t ask friends to spend the night cuddling on the sofa.” 

“They definitely don’t.”

“He’s really charming.” Naz mumbled. “And he's so fucking… Kind. But it's genuine, you know? Not that forced kindness a lot of actors try to pass off?” She sighed. “And he's funny. Truly, not in a gross offensive way. And he's smart, really smart. Like I seriously love hanging out with him. And his face does this thing when he's really into something, like a little puppy curious pout and… Shit.”

Kira’s eyes widened. “Oh, god. You're totally falling for him.”

“I hate it.” Naz groaned, shoving her head into a throw pillow on the sofa. Her phone buzzed.

Kira snatched Naz’s phone, “Oh, he’s not even being subtle anymore,” She snickered, holding it out for Naz to read the text. 

**From: Chris**

**7:45 AM:**

**You can keep me up however you like**

“Can you not!” Naz grabbed it back. “We  _ can't _ do this.” She groaned. 

“What's so bad about just fucking him?” 

“You really think it's a good idea to fuck someone I’m dependent on, without any ramifications?” 

Kira thought a moment. “Well, no. But it's not a terrible idea. You look like you’re in desperate need of a need a drink or an orgasm.” 

Her phone went off again.

**From: Chris**

**7:51 AM:**

**And by that I definitely mean PG 13 board games. Definitely.**

“Aw, he’s backtracking so you don't run off screaming.” Kira remarked.

Naz rolled her eyes.

_ To: Chris _

_ 7:52 AM: _

_ i only fuck with pictionary and mystery date. exclusively.  _

**From: Chris**

**7:54 AM:**

**Phenomenal taste**

“Here's a concept.” Kira said. “I’m going to ignore that you keep smiling at your phone like a 14 year old girl and propose we get drunk tonight.” 

Naz nodded fervently. “This is why I keep you around.” 

“Also I’m your sister and you love me?”

“Families are social constructs.”

Kira kicked her from the other side of the couch. “Oh, mom called. I said you spent the night at Meenal’s. Didn't want to break it to her she raised two proud whores.” 

Naz absently pet Fugue who had decided to join them on the couch. 

“What’d she say?”

“That your clock is ticking and she thinks you should give Rose another chance.”

“She said  _ my _ clock was ticking or my  _ biological _ clock was?” Naz raised a brow. “Two very different things.”

Kira shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Were you supposed to convey that message to me?” Naz asked. Her mother had always loved Rosalie. It did explain a lot, given her terrible taste. 

Kira thought for a moment. “I don't think so. She may have said ‘don't tell your sister.’ But look at me. I’m loyal.” 

“Did she say anything else?”

“She said if you don't call her soon she's going to have to come down herself.” 

“You didn't tell her about the immigration shit, right?” Naz asked, concerned. The last thing she needed was her mother meddling with the Chris thing.

“No. I'm not stupid.” 

“Debatable.” 

“So, you gonna call her?” 

“Eventually, I can't really deal with mom too, right now.” Naz said, getting up. “The more important question is, what are we drinking tonight?” 

\-- 

Clubbing was never Naz’s favourite. She truly believed people were lying to themselves and everyone around them when they said they enjoyed grinding on random, grabby, strangers in a sweaty club drinking overpriced liquor. 

When Kira suggested they spend the night getting drunk, Naz assumed that would involve her favourite, a bottle of tequila, and British romantic comedies. 

Instead, to Naz’s disdain, after a bottle of vodka had been finished Kira forced Naz into a dress that rid up so high it practically had no ass, and convinced her Naz out the door to a celebrity club downtown. 

“I’m not planning on getting laid, but if I see potential I will go for it, so if I text you letting you know I’m safe and staying out, please don't bother me.” Kira explained. 

“We’ve gone out before, Kira.”

“Yeah, and you got annoyed and left early.”

“What's the point of inviting me out if you plan on ditching me anyway?” Naz said, annoyed already. Her brain was only just starting to get fuzzy from the pre-drinking.

Their cab pulled up to the club. “I don't plan it. Sometimes shit happens.” She grabbed her clutch and marched over to the entrance, dragging Naz behind her. “Now, work your Hollywood magic and get us in. I heard Michael B. Jordan was here tonight.” 

Naz groaned. Walking up to the bouncer she showed her Marvel ID and vouched for Kira. 

The club was disgustingly packed. Lights flashing with the bass so loud Naz felt it in her gut. Kira headed straight for the bar and Naz could already feel herself regretting it. 

“Two vodka shots and two tequila shots please!” Kira asked the bartender. 

“God, Kira. I’m too old for this shit.” 

“Loosen up Naz! If you want to forget about the mess you and Chris made, find a distraction.” She surveyed the crowd around them.

“Does that work for you?” Naz said, with a scoff.

Kira downed her two shots in a second, “You bet. Now, let’s find you a distraction. What about her, the blonde with the frilly top?” She said, pointing inconspicuously.

“Mm. She's cute. Not my type though.”

“Picky. We’re not picking a long term spouse here, sis, just a distraction.”

“Still.”

“No, still. What about him?”

“Who? Green shirt?”

“Yeah!” 

“Looks mildly like a goat.”

Kira rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

Naz shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Okay, him? White pants.”

“He's cute but no socks with his shoes.”

“How can you tell from all the way over here?”

“You can see his nasty feet through the side of his shoe. Who does that?”

“People with foot fetishes.”

Naz made a vomiting sound. “Neeeeeeext.”

“Her?”

“Ring.” 

“Fuck. Him?” 

“Also ring. Jesus, Kira at least pretend like you’re trying--”

“Why is everyone fucking married in here!?” She hissed.

Naz plopped her head down on the bar. “Feelings are gross.” She groaned.

Kira pushed the tequila shots over to Naz. “Alright, we’re getting you wasted.” 

Reluctantly Naz took them, feeling that familiar buzz in her stomach. The taste brought back memories from Vegas, which were all too distracting. “Fuck I should've just bought vodka.” She muttered. 

“Are you thinking about his dick?”

“Amongst other things.”

“He can’t have been  _ that _ good.” 

“But he  _ was.”  _ Naz groaned. “God I’m thinking about it again. He did this thing with his tongue, and from my experience the women I’ve been with have been intrinsically superior at eating pussy, but this dude was dedicated--”

“Oh my God. Look!” Kira cut her off. 

“Did you finally find me a distraction?”

“No, fuck your distraction, it’s Michael!”

Michael B. Jordan was at the other side of the club, gated off in VIP. 

Naz rolled her eyes. “Fine. Go.” She droned “leave me here. I’ll be fine. Totally won't die.”

Kira giggled happily, racing off to try and get in, leaving Naz alone at the bar. 

“Bartender, can I get three more tequila shots?” 

Fuck, it was going to be a long night.

\--- 

Seven shots in Naz knew she was fucked. She spent a good thirty minutes people watching after seeing how easily Kira finessed her way into VIP. Naz sat at the bar still, unbothered to join the dance floor. Grabbing her phone from her purse she thought about maybe calling Chris. 

She had the urge to yell at him. What for? She had absolutely no idea. Acting all stupidly lovey-dovey and then looking like a sleeping angel in the morning so Naz couldn’t bring herself to yell at him then? His fault. 

But tequila and vodka were running through her veins and she blamed him for making her horny and sad. And for saving her stupid, Canadian ass. Fumbling through her messages she typed:

_ u are so dreamu _

And hit send. It was just past one in the morning, and yet his response was immediate. 

**_Haha what?_ **

Was he stupid? Did he pretend to be modest on purpose? Was he tragically unaware his absolute charm was fucking disgusting?

_ dreamyyyyyyyyyyyyDreamy  _

_ i'm maybe perhapd very drunk _

**Partying too hard?**

_ TEQUILALAAA i'm out wih kira  _

**You safe and all?**

_ yes daddy  _

She would regret that one in the morning.

**Hahahah. Should I stop texting you? You're gonna be embarrassed in the morning.**

Probably.

_ noooOoiiooOoOooo  _

**No???**

_ NO _

_ are yo listening tp me  _

_ ur so Dreamsu so DREAMY with you r stupid hair n srupid fuckinfn face n slzfokfkdmd i just Hate it its so Prettys n i'm alwaysb stAring  _

**I'm flattered, sweetheart.**

**You're drunk though**

_ ok but i thinmk about this when i'm SOBRR _

_ im thinkingnabout your dick rn  _

Probably would regret that one too.

**Sure baby**

_ fUck Cam _

_ me baby again. _

_ CALL _

**What?**

_ BABY _

_ God  _

_ i cat find kira  _

**Naz is Kira sober? Are you with a bunch of friends?**

_ Hahshsjdjd NO WAY _

_ fuckdj i think she left with MICHAEL B JORBQN  _

_ I HAT E THUS BITCH _

_ Checked my Text she's LEFT _

**Do you want me to pick you up?**

Naz barely thought about that one, frantically typing: 

_ yessshsj _

**Where are you?**

_ Downrown _

Where was she? Fuck if she knew. 

**Where downtown?**

**Club? Bar?**

_ clubbbb _

**Name?**

Nope

_ NO IDEA _

**Karma? Prestige? Cali?**

There we go! 

_ prestihe!!! _

_ are you coming habgy _

**Yes. Can you find some girls to hang out with until I get there?**

Naz looked around, still seated at the bar.

_ yessssssssssss therEss SK MANY CUTE GIRLS  _

**I'm sure there are. Stay safe, I’ll be 20.**

\--

“This seat taken?”

Naz shook her head, “No?” She thought for a minute, without looking up at the man who spoke. Instead she lifted her finger and pointed to herself. “ _ Definitely _ , not interested though…” She slurred a bit. “Have a husband. Who's coming to pick me up right now? His dick’s biiiiiig, dude.”

The man laughed, full bodied and familiar. “Are you having fun, sweetheart?” 

Naz turned to him, fully prepared to say, _ no, she was not, and did not wish to entertain him or his mediocre cock. _

Except it was Chris. 

“Oh. Hi.” 

“Hi.” He smiled. “You wanna go home?”

“Yes please.” Naz said, relieved. “But… My feet are definitely not moving.” She stumbled as she hopped off the bar stool, and Chris caught her. 

“Oh--Okay, careful there, babe, arm around my neck,” 

Naz slung her arm over his shoulder and his lifted her up bridal style.

She laughed obnoxiously. “This is funny. Ironic.” 

“Extremely so. Let’s get you home.”

\--

They were stopped at a red light. Naz had slumped in the passenger seat, with Chris driving.

“You have fun?” He asked.

Naz burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. Alcohol made her giddy. “No. None at all.”

“Oh no!” Chris said. “Why’d you go out then? You always seem to have a terrible time.” 

“Kira’s a jerk. You smell delicious, by the way, do you know?” She said absently. 

Chris chuckled. “Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Her inhibitions were down, and so she leaned over to him in the driver's seat, drawing her hand up his thigh.

He jolted up, trying to stay focused on the road. “Oh-Ooh-kay, cool down tiger.” He grabbed her hand and tried to intertwine their fingers.

“We should have some fun.” She said, quirking a brow.

“Let's just get you home, yeah?” 

Turning over to Chris she opened her mouth, and then closed it again, and pouted.

He raised his brow. “Don’t give me that look.” 

“It's not a look.” She whined. “It's needs, Chris. And  _ you _ said I could keep you up how- _ ever _ I wanted.” 

Chris cocked a brow. “True. Stipulation is you're sober, though.”

She turned to him again and crossed her arms. 

“What?”

“You’re...perfect.” She said, accusingly. 

Chris started laughing. 

“I’m serious! Give me a  _ flawwwww _ you insufferable human being.” She slurred.

“I’m controlling,” He started, without hesitation “I’m stubborn as shit, I’m a hopeless romantic, I always doubt myself. I’m not that decisive, sometimes I say shit without thinking first--”

“‘Hopeless romantic’ does  _ not _ count.”

“You don’t seem like you have many flaws.” He retorted. 

Naz looked at him with a skeptical smirk on her face. “You really wanna go there?”

“Yeah. I bet you couldn't name five.” 

“I didn’t hear from my sister for twelve hours, concluded my bird was  _ gone _ , got incredibly drunk and married you.” 

“By that logic, and extension, its my flaw too. See. Imperfect.”

“I lied to an immigration agent and could've got arrested.”

Chris pursed his lips, contemplating this. “Okay. You're right. That was stupid. You win. You're an idiot.”

“Is that why you won't sleep with me?” She whined again, moving her hand down his thigh. He stopped her again and she groaned. 

“T echnically I have slept with you. Last night, even.” 

“You know that's not what I mean.” 

He shrugged. “Not sure about you, but it definitely kept  _ me _ up.” 

A tiny smile crept up on her face. “I’m... a jerk.” 

\--

Chris parked on the street outside Naz’s apartment and led her up, letting her use his body for support. She was beginning to sober up, only slightly, and her head was killing her. 

Once her door was shut and locked behind them, she collapsed on the sofa and groaned. “I’m never listening to Kira again.” 

Chris was in her kitchen, filling up a glass of water. He brought it over to her, which she gladly accepted.

“My head’s going to kill me tomorrow.” She muttered. “Fuck,” She was trying to undo the strap on her heels but couldn't keep her fingers still long enough. “Fuck, me. Get off!” She cursed. 

“Here, sweetheart,” Chris laughed, “I got it.” He sat on the sofa and pulled her foot into his lap, easily unhooking the straps and massaging the soles of her feet. “How's that feel?” 

“Like heaven.” She smiled. 

He got up, “Come on,” he said, holding his hand out for her, “let's get you out of that dress.”

“Oh, hell yes, baby.” Naz exclaimed, eagerly grasping Chris’s hand as he led her, stumbling, to her bedroom. 

He shook his head, chuckling. “Not like that.” 

Naz rolled her eyes, flopping herself again on her bed. 

Chris headed to her closet. “Where do you keep your PJs?” He called out.

“Top shelf.” 

He emerged from the closet holding up a t-shirt with Justin Trudeau, the Prime Minister of Canada, shirtless, riding a moose through the Rocky Mountains. “Sexy.” He said, quirking a brow.

“It was a gift.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Just get me my Little Mermaid shirt and stop snooping.” 

“Whatever you say!” He shouted from the closet. 

“I'm going to need underwear too.” Naz said, remembering she was in a thong. “Second drawer, left, something with a thick band, cotton, no lace.” 

She heard the drawer open. “Cute granny panties.”

“Shut up.” 

She grabbed her pillow and squeezed it. Fuck, she was exhausted. She imagined how Chris probably felt, noted she hadn't let him sleep a wink the night prior.

He returned a moment later, a pair of pajama shorts and panties in one hand and her vintage Disney shirt on another. He dropped them on her bed beside her.

“I’ll be outside if you need anything, and then I’m probably going to head home.” 

Naz nodded, sitting upright. 

“Just shout, alright? I’ll give you your privacy.” 

And he shut the door behind him.

Naz groaned. This was too much effort. Twisting her body awkwardly she went to unzip the back of her dress. It only went about halfway, but she was convinced that was enough.

It turned out it wasn't.

And like everything in her life, it went to shit quite quickly.

“Chris!” She called out. 

“What’s up?” He tentatively opened the door, and Naz could see he immediately bit his lip to keep from laughing. “Oh my God.” 

Her dress was halfway up her body, both arms stuck, and her head was tilted to the side. She was sure she looked very much like a monster from  _ Monsters Inc _ . 

“Just. Get me out.” 

He rushed up to her, trying to hold in a laugh. “Hold on,” He said, pulling down the dress again and spinning her around so he could unzip her fully. 

“Okay, now, arms up.” 

“You're going to see my whole fucking pussy, this thong is sheer.”

“Old news, sweetheart, saw it five seconds ago when your dress was creatively on the upper half of your body.” 

“Great.”

“I’ll close my eyes.”

“And end up poking my eye out? No thanks.” It was evident the alcohol was wearing off. 

His hands hesitantly came up to her body. “You sure?” He said, searching her face for any signs of discomfort.

She looked at him, seeing the concern in his eyes. “I trust you.” 

“I’ll try not to poke your eyes out.”

“Appreciate it.” 

He pulled the dress up, revealing skin in its path, but his eyes stayed on Naz’s face. Smart man. Without a seconds reluctance or glance at her practically naked body, he replaced the dress with her shirt. 

“You got the rest?” He asked, jutting his chin out to the panties. 

She crooked her neck to the side, taking in her surroundings, dragging her tongue across her bottom lip before biting down, she looked up at him. “You  _ could _ help me.” She dipped her hands under his t-shirt, feeling the soft skin of his stomach. 

She saw him swallow, and his jaw clench.

The light was dim and all that could be heard was her harsh breathing. 

He sighed. “What are we doing, Naz?” He whispered. 

She didn't give him an answer. Instead she pulled him close, letting his leg rub up against her barely clothed crotch. Her heart was fluttering, she could hear the blood pulsing in her ears. Nevertheless she reached up and cradled his face in both her hands, and closed her eyes, leaning up on her toes to reach his face and meld their lips together.

He responded initially, his body reacting before his mind, as he acted on temptation. He hadn't shaved in a few days, the prickle of his stubble evident against her skin. His mouth was warm, gentle and eager, and he let his tongue lightly trace her lips, eliciting a moan from her. She reached for the waistband of his jeans, but he pulled away, fast. “Not like this.” He said quickly, shaking his head and pushing her a foot away. He bit his lip. “I’m sorry.” 

Naz sighed, dropping her head. “I know, no, I'm sorry.”

“When you're sober.” He said. “Okay, sweetheart?” 

“Alright.”

“Hey, look at me.” He lifted her chin to look at him. His eyes twinkled. “We’ll talk about this, okay?” 

She felt an aching in her heart, but her throat had closed up and she couldn't bring herself to say anything. 

“I’m going to head home, alright? You get some sleep.”

She didn't want him to leave. They didn't have to do anything. Stay, she wanted to say. Stay. Now.

But she didn't say it. She was frozen. All she could form was, a soft “okay.” 

His hand left her body as he pulled away, leaving her feeling cold. “Goodnight, Naz.” 

She nodded. “Goodnight.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that t-shirt. it really does exist: https://www.shelfies.com/products/moosin-trudeau-tee  
> thank you for reading lovelies!!!! we're getting into a bit of a wild time when it comes to plot so your comments really do keep me going <333 let me know what you think!!!!!!!


	16. the one where naz's office gets... messy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u angels for being patient  
> very nsfw,,,,,,youre welcome/warned

**SATURDAY**

**From: Chris**

**8:45 AM:**

**Hope your head’s feeling okay. I think we should talk about some stuff. Can you let me know if you're up to it today?**

**10:56 AM:**

**You there?**

**2:33 PM:**

**You alright? You drank a lot last night.**

**6:18 PM:**

**Sorry I’m bombarding you with texts, definitely not super worried or anything…..**

_To: Chris_

_6:31 PM:_

_I'm alive_

**6:38 PM:**

**Ok. I'll let you rest. We’ll talk tomorrow then.**

**\--**

**SUNDAY**

**10:04 AM**

**Do you have a minute to call me today?**

**3:09 PM:**

**No?**

**4:23 PM:**

**We should get our story straight for immigration**

**5:15PM:**

**Are you forgetting the meeting is on friday?**

**7:51 PM:**

**Come on, Naz. I’m going to see you at work tomorrow, anyway.**

**10:10 PM:**

**??????**

**Hope everything's alright. Call me.**

\--

Seven declined calls. Seven.

Naz was a 29 year old women who dealt with her personal issues with the emotional aptitude of a cactus.

She would avoid her problems until everything spiralled out of control. This situation was not unlike Naz avoiding her eighth grade boyfriend so he wouldn't dump her.

Or avoiding talking about her emotions and anger over Rosalie's indifference and letting them fester inside her until she all but exploded.

And this time was no different. She had gotten drunk, again. Made a stupid decision, again. And it had led to the inevitable demise of whatever her and Chris had built up until this point.

Again.

She was beginning to think she wasn't as in control as she thought. Was this her midlife crisis?

She didn't want to talk about the kiss. Or the texts. Her texts. They were both impeccably embarrassing and the rejection topped it off as probably being one of the most humiliating nights of her life. Behind marrying him.

Except then he had asked to talk. And she knew there was going be the inevitable question of what they were. Defining it. Which scared the living shit out of her, if she was going to be frank.

He was her fucking husband. Of four weeks. Four weeks because she needed him, actually physically _needed_ him to remain in the country.

She’d be damned if she was going to fuck that up.

Though, she knew she was sort of already doing that. God. Everything was a fucking mess.

But she did feel shitty. He didn't deserve her blowing him off like this. He at least deserved the truth. But limbo was better than facing what had happened, what could happen and everything in between.

So she ignored his texts. Didn't reply at all, to which Kira berated her.

Kira, who had slept with Michael B. Fucking Jordan.

Why was Kira’s life looking more and more appealing to Naz? _She_ was supposed to be the mess.

And Chris was right. Naz would see him at work Monday, and they both needed to see the immigration agent that following Friday. So what was she planning on doing about that?

Absolutely fucking nothing.

She entered work bright and early Monday morning, pulling her trench coat up and over her face, attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible. She had a shit ton of paperwork to get done so raced to her office, narrowly avoiding him in the meeting room. She sighed, relieved, but his eyes searched for her every time he saw her that day.

He saw her later, in front of the Russos, and she saw him maneuver through people, trying to come up to her but she made up an excuse and rushed to the washroom.

It was just past two when she peered outside her office to inspect the coffee cart. She needed caffeine. But she didn't need it enough to suffer the _Talk_.

She didn't see him at the coffee cart, to which she breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Until she saw Kyle Bradshaw walking towards her on her right. She made a sharp turn back towards her office, praying she would be able to avoid that confrontation.

Until she collided into a body on her left. Hands came out to steady her, and she practically groaned when she saw who it was.

Of fucking course.

“You plan on ignoring me forever?” He said, clearly annoyed.

“No. Yes.” She tried to duck around him and get to her office, except he stalked behind her, caught her arm and pulled her into the office before she could stop him.

He was evidently pissed off, and apparently mid filming, as she noted the suit. Crossing his enormous arms over his chest, he clenched his jaw. God, she hated the beginning of filming. He looked like an entire meal.

“What are you doing, Chris?” Naz groaned, after the door to her office was shut.

“You've been ignoring my texts, you won't pick up any of my calls, you run in the opposite direction when you see me coming, if I knew this would be the result of making out for two seconds, I might've rethought it, except-- Oh wait,” He sneered. “ _You_ were the one who kissed _me_.”

“That doesn't--” She pressed her fingers to her temples and groaned. “Look. Let’s make this fast. It was a kiss. It didn't mean anything.”

Chris barked a humourless laugh. “Fine. You want to act like a child? Fine.”

 _“I'm_ acting like a child? You're blowing a tiny kiss out of proportion--”

“No, I’m pissed off you’re ignoring me.”

She raised a brow. “It’s been two days. Calm down.”

He rolled his eyes, now. “Radio silence for two days?”

“I needed space.” She said, honestly.

“I get that, but you can tell me that. Not run the other way when you see me walking down the hall.”

He was making too big a deal out of this. “Honestly, I’m not obligated to tell you anything.” She said.

“You’d think you’d have a little more consideration for your friends.” He snapped.

“Oh, fuck off,” Naz scoffed, “were we ever really friends, Chris? Don’t kid yourself. This has been obligation from day one.”

That look like it hurt him. His faced pinched, but he shook his head. “Honestly,” He threw his arms up in defeat. “Let me know when you're done this shit and want to talk about this like a mature adult.”

What happened next, Naz couldn't really explain. She felt every nerve on fire, her blood was boiling and she was seething. He made her fucking furious, and her attraction to him was spiralling out of control, and she was about to ruin everything. Or she already had.

She had two options.

She could tell him the truth. Or she could lie and kick him out.

Her hand reached out and yanked his arm, pulling him roughly back. She felt her heart thudding in her chest, the ache in her core amplified by the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Chris turned around harshly, with a sharp exhale, jaw clenched. He was furious, pupils dilated and brows furrowed.

She didn't give him a chance to speak. She let her lust awaken instead, grasping his tie and pulling him into kiss.

It was nothing like their kiss the night before. She was sure this time. And he was too. This was weeks of pent up aggression, hunger and desire, fueling every action, every breath.

He responded immediately, hands frantic, grabbing anything he could, her ass, her hips, her jaw, pulling at her hair. Everything he had held back the night before was unleashed now and she was in euphoria. His mouth on hers, voracious and needy, every emotion and every feeling forced into one kiss. She grabbed at his belt, hands shaking, but he smacked it away.

“Fuck, no. Not yet.”

“Why?” She whined.

“Because you've been a dick.”

“So you're _withholding_ dick?” She sneered.

Chris knotted his hand in her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her neck. He moved his lips down and planted open mouth kisses down her neck and down her clavicle. His fingers worked at the buttons of her blouse, undoing them with ease, revealing her bra. He let out an audible moan, expression darkening at the sight.

She shoved his suit jacket off, hands working fervently at his tie now. Chris grabbed her by the waist and hitched her legs around his hips, sauntering backwards to the desk, his lips still latched hers.

With one hand sweeping the desk and knocking everything everywhere, he placed her on the desk and let her undo his tie further. She pulled her lips off his for a moment to catch her breath.

“You're making a fucking mess.” She threw his tie the ground and grasped at his belt. “Get this off.”

He hiked up her skirt, rubbing her pussy through the thin cloth of her panties. “Fuck, you're so wet.”

“Yeah, you do that.”

A smug grin appeared on his lips. He dragged his fingers up her thighs, slowly, teasing out a moan. His lips found their way to Naz’s ear. He traced her earlobe with his mouth before growling “you have no idea what you do to me” and tugging at her earlobe with his teeth.

Naz grinned wide, undoing his belt, finally, pushing his trousers down only slightly to reveal his cock. She adjusted her position on the desk, as Chris tugged down her panties a little too roughly. The lace ripped, tearing them in half.

“Oops.”

“Asshole.”

She grabbed ahold of his cock, swiping the precum off the tip and pumping him long and slow. He leaned forward, teasing her slit with the head of his prick.

“Condom?” He asked, breathing heavy.

Naz shook her head. “IUD. You clean?”

“Yes. You?”

“Yes.”

He exhaled a sigh of relief, and a devilish smirk appeared. Fingers bruising her hips Chris pulled her towards him, further rubbing his cock against her pussy, only for a second, before dipping the tip inside. Naz exhaled, biting into his clothed shoulder, feeling him slowly enter her and allowed herself to adjust to his size. Twisting her neck to see him, Naz watched Chris’s face contort with pleasure as he pulled back slightly, looking down at where his cock disappeared inside her, and began to thrust.  

“See?” Naz smirked. “You didn't want to deprive yourself of that, did you?”

“God,” He gasped. “You feel like heaven.”

She placed one hand on his chest and the other wrapped around his neck, fingers twisting around his hair. She tugged a bit, eliciting a moan, and his thrusts deepened as he gyrated his hips. Naz moved her hips alongside his, trying to match his pace, feeling the familiar heat build inside of her.

“Yeah, baby, fuck me.” He panted, sucking a love bite at the junction of her neck.

Rolling her hips she tried to grind her clit down on his pubic bone, feeling a shock run through her when he hit it just right.

She needed more, grabbing his hand from her back and guiding his fingers down to her clit, to feel where his prick entered her. Chris moaned, a little too loudly, prompting Naz to cover his mouth with her hand, muffling him. Swinging her legs around his hips she moved both her hands back up to cradle his face and let him lift her ass off the desk, so he was fucking her, practically standing.

The angle was heaven. She felt everything, every vein on his dick, the way it curved so perfectly and hit her g-spot just right, the way his hands worked her hips so she would roll her clit right up against him. Nothing could compare to how he felt deep inside her. Not her fingers, not a toy, could produce the same level of pleasure Chris was able to. She remembered it in bits and pieces before, but this was completely difference. She wasn't going to forget everything tomorrow, she was going to have sore hips and a craving for this everyday of her life from now on. A particularly deep thrust pulled her out of her mind, and a moan formed at her lips. But she had to keep quiet, and his pistoning hips didn't help that. She felt herself coming, toes curling and mouth against his shoulder, desperately trying to keep herself from screaming out. He placed her ass back on the desk, slowing down to long-drawn out thrusts, angling his hips with precision. A small squeal escaped her lips and Chris’s hand came up to her mouth to smother it like she had only minutes before for him.

He fucked her through the waves of her orgasm, absently kissing her exposed neck as she came down.

God, was he made to fuck.

Catching her breath, she felt his thrusts become sloppier, speeding up again but with tension. He was going to come, and it was going to make a mess of her.

“You gonna come?” She whispered, legs practically weights now.

He nodded, eyes screwed shut and mouth wide open.

“Fuck.” She whispered, wrapping her legs around his waist again, “Come for me, baby.” He let out a low growl, biting her neck. He grasped her hips again, trying to steady himself as his thrusts slowed, deep and steady.

Within two thrusts he was gone, spurts of come shooting inside her as he brought his hands back to the desk behind them, trying to ground himself before he fell over.

His face was flushed, beads of sweat across his forehead and her exposed chest. He captured her lips once more, lazily, exhausted and sweet. Leaning behind them, still inside her, he reached for tissues.

She waited until he softened before pulling off carefully, letting him clean them up.

“You're amazing.” Chris said, cradling her face in one hand and kissing her again.

Naz shook her head, trying to pull away from his embrace. “We shouldn't have done this.”

“I don't care.” He kissed her again and she responded with enthusiasm.

They waited until they had caught their breaths before pulling away from each other.

Tucking himself back into his pants Chris smiled, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I'm sorry about your panties.” He said. “I'll buy you new ones.”

“Shut up. It was hot.”

He smirked. “It was, wasn't it?”

She wanted to smile, to wax nostalgically. But they had just crossed a line.

She swallowed, grabbing a new shirt from her desk. “What are we doing, Chris?”

He didn't reply immediately, as he had turned around to adjusting his tie in the mirror. He tilted his head to the side cutely, and sighed. “I dunno. I like you. A lot.”

“I’d hope so.”

“Last night…” He started, joining her again.

She sighed. “I’m sorry. For ignoring you. You were just being a decent person.” She shook her head. “I just got caught up in the moment.”

“I know.” He smiled. “So what do we do now? Are we together?” His hand reached out to her jaw and caressed her chin. “Because I’ve had a thing for you since day one.” He said.

Naz felt her heart race. What the fuck was this perfect man doing. Actually communicating legitimate feelings?

“Liar. I was yelling at you about your broken penis.”

“What can I say, I’m a masochist.”

“You really want to start something here? Even if we’re married, I’m on immigration’s radar and this is considered exactly what is not suitable for work?”

“I think this is a great idea.” He exaggerated. “I think it's fate.”

Naz rolled her eyes.

“Don't fuckin’ sass me.” He scolded. “I told you I was a hopeless romantic.”  

“ _I_ don't think this is a good idea.” She said.

He helped her button her blouse up. “Feels good, though.”

“Yeah.” She ran her fingers across his flushed cheek.

Naz bit her lip. She thought about it for a minute. What were her options? She clearly had complicated it enough to begin with.

What else was there to lose?

“I guess I have a little thing for you too.”

“Little?” He quirked a brow.

She shrugged. “Little. But we’re married. And it's complicated.”

“But it doesn't have to be.” He told her. “We’re just two people who like to see each other naked and happy.”

Naz nodded. “Amongst other things.”

“Let me take you to dinner, sweetheart.” He said.

She looked up at him, all pink and happy. How could she possibly deny him?

“Okay.” She conceded. “But I’m buying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FInaLLY! naz has caved!! only took her 87 years,,, now... what could possibly go wrong?


	17. the one with half naked michael b. jordan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naz and Chris go on their first date.   
> and in classic Naz and Chris fashion, nothing really goes according to plan.  
> side note: have you seen black panther? i did. i cried. it's phenomenal. 12/10.

Naz felt the bile rise up in her throat. “Fuck, move!” She scrambled to the toilet, shoving Chris lifeless body aside. 

She lurched, hurling her insides into the basin. 

“Oh,  _ God.”  _ Chris moaned, lying on the cold tile floor of her bathroom, his suit jacket crumpled in the corner. 

“I’m  _ never _ having dinner with you again.”

\-- 

**_Earlier that day:_ **

**_7:45 PM:_ **

Naz had three unwritten rules in dating. First, was never date a Republican. Second, was never date anyone who said  _ Fight Club  _ was their favourite movie. And third, and arguably most arbitrary, was never, ever,  _ ever _ date an actor. 

So, sitting across from Chris at dinner was intrinsically painful. 

She was relieved at least he wasn't a Republican. That would've been, oh, too much. Though, she needed to ask about  _ Fight Club.  _ Soon. 

In hindsight, agreeing to go out tonight was stupid. It was their first… ‘date’ she supposed, but she spent way longer than she would like to admit trying to find an outfit. What did one wear to a date with a man who she had already fucked, had already seen her naked—more than once— and who also looked like a God carved out of marble? Oh, and was  _ married _ to.

She had no idea. Her usual go-to outfit was a black, strapless, flowy and calf-length jumpsuit with a deep V-neck. However,she needed easy access tonight, and she knew there was no easy access with a jumpsuit. 

This would've been less complicated had he not fucked her so well she moaned at just the thought and wanted to run him over with a tractor for making her dependent. 

She settled on a little black dress, accessorized with gold and grabbed her red stilettos. 

Doing this alone was new, usually Kira would have been sitting on her bed, making a face at Fugue. Except Naz hadn't told Kira of the office interaction. To be specific, the fucking. She knew Kira would just say “I told you so” and make some snide remarks about  _ feelings _ , which Naz definitely didn't need to hear. 

But not being able to talk about this dinner to anyone, before she left the house, was excruciating. 

She hated to admit she was so fucking nervous. 

It was five to seven when Chris arrived at her apartment and her heart had been racing. He sported a black suit, with his short hair tousled messily, clean shaven again. 

He was stupidly beautiful, looking like he just woke up looking this fucking good. It bothered her, that feeling of ache in the pit of her stomach he caused. He didn't wear a tie, leaving the top button of his white dress shirt undone revealing his clavicle tattoo. She was staring. It was incredibly obvious. He had given her a bouquet of red roses, to which she thanked him, and turned away fast enough so he didn't see her furiously blush. 

“You okay?” His voice snapped her out of her thoughts, pulling her back into the moment.

Here she was, at a ridiculously expensive restaurant, tucked away in the heart of Los Angeles, a beautiful, clearly expensive, set up. 

It was stupid fancy, the ridiculously pretentious kind. Not that Naz wasn't used to this, she had been out to fancy restaurants before, with famous people before. It was literally part of her job. But this restaurant, with this man, this night, seemed all too real, all too… dream-like. She felt her palms beginning to sweat.

“Huh?” She said, looking up from her wine glass. “Oh, yeah. I'm fine.”

“It is too much?” He said, nervously, shifting in his seat. “I figured go big or go home. It's too much, isn't it?”

She shrugged. “No, it's nice, gorgeous.”

He looked mildly relieved, but it was obvious he could sense something was wrong with her.

“Did I mention you look divine?” He said, his hand reached out and touched hers, from across their private booth, caressing it softly. He was always touching her, she noticed. When they walked his hand would graze her back, her arms, pull his hand to hers, intertwine their fingers. 

It was endearing. But they were definitely in public. Which made it terrifying.

She prodded at her lasagna, dropping her head so he wouldn't see her smile so wide. “You did.” She said. “You're not so bad yourself. Though, I must say, I’m beginning to miss the beard.”

“Oh, yeah?” He smirked. 

She hummed in agreement. “It's a disservice to people all over the world.”

“Me shaving?”

“Yes.”

He quirked a brow. “And why is that?”

“Because your beard is a work of art.” She said, plainly. 

He let a sly smile play off his lips, but shook his head, cheeks flushed. “How have you been, sweetheart? How's work?”

“S’okay. Paperwork slowed down because filming is up again, though Kyle Bradshaw is going to be the reason I commit actual murder.”

“What happened?” 

“He's just a prick. Always harassing people, always mouthing off. I’m so heated higher ups won't just fucking fire him.” She stabbed a zucchini. 

“You can't report him?” Chris asked between a mouthful of lasagna. 

“I have. It doesn't do anything if no one cares enough to.” 

“Can I do something?” 

Naz paused, setting her fork down on the plate. “I dunno. I suppose, not really.” She sighed. “I mean, short of threatening to quit, no. Bradshaw’s been getting away with this shit for years, and the system’s on his side.”

Chris shook his head in disbelief. “That’s fucked.” 

“Tell me about it.”

“I can talk to Feige if you'd like?” He offered.

“No.” Naz said sternly, to which Chris raised a brow. 

“Why?”

“Because if you go to higher ups, it's clear who told you. Me. And I sign confidentiality clauses, Chris. They would fire me, and probably try to sue me.” 

“So, what, we just sit on our hands? Let this dick get away with it?”

“Pretty much. I try to support the people who report him as much as I can. But there's nothing more I can do that wouldn't risk both my job and the jobs of those who report him.” 

“There has to be more—”

“There isn't,” She touched his hand. “Look, I get that you're trying to help, and it’s sweet, but…” She paused. “The last thing I need right now with everything going on, is a lawsuit.”

He looked like he had more to say, but his expression softened. “Sorry. We can talk about something else, if you'd like.”

Naz smiled. “Yes, please. How are you?”

“I'm good, been having to hit the gym a lot harder lately.”

“For filming?” 

“Yeah, the beginning is always the worst. I'm trying to keep the bulk of muscle on, but it's exhausting.”

“Gross. Though, I must say, I’m not complaining.”

“Of course you aren't.”

“You fucked me standing up, I’m eternally grateful.” 

He rolled his eyes, smirking. 

“Seriously. It must be exciting for you to be done with Marvel soon. I mean, what? Two more months and you wrap what's been an eight-nine year run?” 

“Yeah, yeah. It's fuckin’ weird. Like, I’m excited, but I’m also going to need a couple months to really get used to the fact it's over.” He sipped his wine.

“Honestly, it's probably both invigorating and terrifying.”

“Definitely.” He said, “Marvel was home for me. Kicked off my career in a really positive way, afforded me so much freedom, I’ll be eternally grateful.”

“You think you'll stick to more acting projects, or is directing coming up more?”

“Both, for sure. People always ask as if it's one in place of the other, but I don't think I’ll ever stop acting,” He said, “I’ll just, do smaller stuff. Stuff for me. But I have something I want to direct tucked away.”

“Ooh. Do tell.” Naz said, curiously.

“It's this little independent romance. I fell in love with the script. It's about these two women who fall in love with each other from other sides of the world.” 

“Stop. No way. You're directing women loving women!” Naz said excitedly, clasping her hands together. 

Chris smiled. “Yeah, I thought the script was beautiful, and I definitely know we’ll need to work with GLAAD to make sure we get it right. It's time, you know? For more positive representations. I definitely learned a lot about using my position of power to forward that. And I love romance. So, it was a win-win.” 

“Can I give you some advice, as a certified bisexual?” Naz laughed.

“‘ _ Certified _ ’,” Chris laughed, “Yes, always.” 

“Cast a person of colour. You need to. LGBTQ+ representation is so overly whitewashed.”

“Yeah? You don't think that'll be trying to target too many audiences at once?” He said.

Naz made a face. “Well, no. Intersectionality is a thing. I’m sitting here, brown and bisexual. Like so many other people of colour are. That's the problem with the representations of the community. People have this misconception that racialized and super gay can't be intertwined.” 

“Right, right, definitely.” He said, nodding, “I mean look at  _ Moonlight _ . That was the whole point, yeah? To showcase that sexuality isn't exclusive to one race.” 

“Exactly. And to make a point about sexuality and racialized masculinity. God, I loved  _ Moonlight _ .”

“Me too, it was so beautifully shot, written, and directed, I was in awe.”

“You'll get up there, eventually, baby.” Naz said. “With practice. Well… maybe not… as good though.” She teased. 

He barked a laugh, “Thanks, I definitely appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Nazanin?” A british voice from behind her said, pulling her out of her conversation with Chris. 

Naz turned, surprised to see Hugh Grant standing next to her booth. 

“Oh my God, hey!” She got up, Hugh reached around her and gave her a hug. “Since when were you in town?” 

“Couple weeks now, actually, how have you been? You look exquisite as per usual—”

Naz grinned, and then widened her eyes, realizing Chris was in fact, still there. “Sorry, Hugh this is—”

“Oh, my apologies, we’ve been terribly rude—” Hugh said, turning to Chris who was now standing as well. He reached out his hand to shake Hugh’s. “You are?” Hugh asked.

An amused smile appeared on Chris’ face. “Chris,” He paused. “We’ve met before.” 

Hugh paused, baffled. “Really?” 

Chris pursed his lips, laughing nervously, “Uh, yeah, Golden Globes last year, the after party. We had a whole conversation about politics?”

Hugh was definitely either having a stroke, or desperately racking his brain to remember any fraction of this apparent conversation. Chris was beginning to sweat.

Naz wanted to drown herself in wine. 

“Oh!” Hugh said suddenly, “Yes! Chris! Right, you were incredibly inebriated by the end of the night, weren’t you?”

Chris blinked twice. “Yeah, actually. I think I probably was.” 

Having run into an ex-fuck-buddy on a date with a current fuck-buddy was definitely on the list of things Naz did not want to have experience in her life. Except here she was, awkwardly standing between a dinosaur who couldn't remember Chris at all, and a cheerful baby dork who was clearly hurt Hugh didn't remember him. Or did, but in a perpetually disenchanting way.

Naz grimaced. “Okay, well. That’s awesome.”

“Anyway, my date’s probably wondering where I disappeared to. Do let me know next time you’re in London, sweetheart.” Hugh said, turning to Naz, “We’ll pick up where we left off.” And with a very obvious wink and pat on the ass, he walked away.

Naz sat back down and downed the rest of her wine.

“Sorry about that,” She said. “He’s… Extra.”

“You totally fucked him.” Chris was smirking. 

Naz paused, “Yes.” 

“You had a thing with Hugh Grant!?”

“...Yes.”

“Not bad, Naz. Not bad. Though, I can’t believe he only remembers me as the one who got wasted. Fuck.” 

“He’s honestly so cocky, it’s terrible, he probably wasn't even paying attention to you at the Globes.” 

“You need to tell me the story behind this. Cause he’s on a date. And squeezed your ass. And you're on a date!” There was a laugh behind his voice, but underlying it was a tone Naz hadn't heard before.

She was picking up some jealousy.

“We never had a  _ thing,  _ thing.” She justified. “We fucked… A lot. I worked HR for  _ The Man From U.N.C.L.E. _ and met him there.”

“Oh, so you  _ do _ disregard your own HR rules for some dick, too?”

“ _ You _ disregard my HR rules for some  _ dick?”  _ She mimicked, smirking.

“Sexuality is fluid, baby, whatever.” 

She laughed. “Look,  _ I _ , definitely did not. We ran into each other at a bar  _ after _ filming wrapped. He’s… Charming. So, we fucked, and then it just became this Thing where we fucked whenever he was in town. Oh, and when I went to London for that  _ Ultron _ press mishap.”

“A transnational booty call.” Chris said, smugly.

“Transcontinental booty call, in fact.”

Chris made a face, “Probably needs a little help from the little blue pill doesn’t he?”

“Well, obviously,” Naz rolled her eyes. “He’s nearly 60.” 

“That makes me weirdly happy.” He said, cheerfully. “Considering he has barely a clue who I am.” 

“Did that bruise your ego?” Naz teased. 

“Crucified it. I’m a broken man right now.” 

Naz laughed, swatting his hand. 

“I can’t believe you fucked Hugh Grant.” 

“I’ve been around the block, baby.” 

“Really? Who else?” Clearly this peaked his interest. “Is it anyone I know?”

“I dunno, I don’t think so. Amber Heard?” 

“No, I don’t think I’ve met her. But, nice.” He said, a smirk playing up on his face. 

“Speaking of  _ Moonlight _ , Janelle Monae… Oh, now she was lovely.”

He quirked a brow. “She’s gay?” 

“Well,” Naz grinned, “She was that night.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“I don’t think… Oh, I made out with Adam Lambert at a bar once.”

“Wait, he  _ is _ gay.”

“Yeah? Sexuality is  _ fluid _ , baby.” She mimicked.

“Wow. You have a whole chest of conquests, little minx. And no relationships stemmed from any of those?” 

Naz thought about how she would answer that. “No, no, not with anyone in the business.”

He raised his brows at this. “Oh, interesting.” 

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just… Interesting. Is that why you wouldn’t date me?” He had a playful tone of voice masking his evident nerves. 

Naz swallowed. “I wouldn’t date you because we’re married.” She said. It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie, either. “And with all of them there was no intent of any relationship of any kind. Hugh’s a whore, four kids and two baby mamas? No thanks.” 

Chris barked a laugh. 

“Janelle, it was a one time thing, Amber was right after I ended things with Rosalie, and Adam and I were just fucking around.”

“Makes sense, makes sense.” He said, intertwining their fingers. “So, how’s Kira?” He started, trying to change the conversation. “Haven’t seen much of her lately.”

“Oh no,” Naz stopped him. “You don’t get to cop out of this exes conversation that easily.” 

“What?” Chris exaggerated. “I totally am not.” 

“If we listed your actress-fuck-buddies would we run out of time, room, and effort?”

He sipped his wine. “No doubt. I’m like Hugh. Multiple mystery babies are going to start popping out of nowhere.” 

Naz snickered. “Well, I know about Jeanine.”

“‘Course you do.”

“Who else? Spill.”

He swirled his wine in the glass. “Honestly… A lot.” He dropped his head, laughing. “But lately it hasn't been… One night stands?”

“What do you mean?” 

“I like comfort. I like familiar people. So, a lot of the time it ends up being an ex…”

“Oh, you're  _ that _ guy.” 

He laughed, a little too hard. “I'm  _ that _ guy.”

“If we break up and I get a ‘ _ you up?’ _ text I’m going to sue you.” 

“Oh, shut up, you'd fuck me in a heartbeat.”

Naz nodded, thoughtfully, biting her lip, “You’re probably right:” 

The server came around again with dessert menus, clearing their empty plates. 

“Do you want dessert?” Chris asked, looking at the menu. “Their tiramisù is heavenly.”

“Mm.” Naz’s foot grazed the inside of his leg under the table. “I’m definitely feeling

something that's as good as dessert.”

Either Chris was oblivious, or toying with her because he didn't flinch. 

Leaning back in his seat, his dress shirt pulled to the side, revealing his clavicle tattoo. Naz stared.

“I really do think you'd love their tiramisù.” He said. “It's like an orgasm in your mouth.” 

A smirk barely appeared on his lips and Naz knew what game he was playing.

“An orgasm definitely sounds good.” Naz said, cheekily. “But maybe not from the tiramisù?” She tilted her head to the side. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re dirty, and I won't engage with such inappropriate insinuations.”

Naz swatted his hand. “Shut up.” 

“Should I get the check?”

“You should.”

“And we should get out of here.”

“We should.”

“Try to make it to your apartment?”

“Even the car’s fine.”

“You're kinky.”

“Car sex is not even the slightest bit kinky.”

“Are you calling me vanilla?” He said, feigning offense. 

“Highly doubt your affinity for anal classifies you as vanilla.”

Chris choked on his wine. “Thank you for saying that so loudly.”

Naz smiled. “No problem, baby.”

\--

They barely made it to the apartment before Naz was trying to paw Chris’ suit off of him. His lips latched onto hers as soon as the elevator doors shut. 

“Security cameras.” She warned, when his hand dipped under her dress and rubbed up against her panties. 

“We should give them a show.” He teased, but after one more prolonged kiss he pulled away and leaned back against the opposite wall. 

He had that devilish smirk on his face, staring at her looking utterly flushed. She knew her lipstick was a mess just by the traces she saw on his face. 

The elevator bell rung, indicating they had arrived on her floor. He came around behind her and pulled her close to him as they rushed to her door. 

His hand brushed her hair aside and began sucking a love bite on her neck. She noticed he had a thing for that. Love bites. She made a mental note to return the favour when they got inside. “ _ Chris _ ,” She hissed, fumbling with her clutch to grab her keys. She swatted his hand away when it grasped her breast. “Let me find my keys.”

“Hurry up.”

“You're not helping.”

“I don't know what you're talking about…” He chuckled in her ear and it sent chills up her spine. “I'm being incredibly helpful.” 

Finally feeling her key, she opened the door and pulled him inside. He turned them around, pushing her body up against the door, shutting it. His mouth came back to hers and kissed her hard. His lips were soft and passionate, and his fingers tangled themselves in her hair. Moaning into his open mouth, Naz threw her arms around his neck and let her leg hitch around his waist. 

Suddenly, there was a clatter in her kitchen that made her and Chris jump.

“Fugue?” He whispered.

Loud footsteps followed.

Naz shook her head. “Definitely not Fugue.” 

“Maybe it's Kira?” His voice stayed lowered.

“Kira would sneak around in the dark?” Naz said, her heart pounding. “No. It's not Kira.” 

Naz knew Kira, the bitch acted like she owned the place. There was no way she wouldn't have made her presence known by now. 

“Did you hear about the girlfriend of that famous guy whose house got broken into ’cause someone wanted to kill her?”

In the dim light she saw Chris’ jaw clench. His arms wrapped around her, instinctively. “That's not fucking funny.” He said, sternly.

“I'm not trying to  _ be _ funny!” She hissed. 

“Stay here.” 

“No! I’m coming with you.”

“I don't want you getting hurt.”

She rolled her eyes, sure he didn't see it in the dark, but did it anyway.

“Fuck off, dude, I have pepper spray in my bag.” She said, digging around to find it.

Chris shook his head. “Fine, but stay behind me.” 

Naz would’ve been offended by the insinuation that she couldn’t defend herself, but Chris was also a six-foot tank, and Naz needed a step-stool to reach the top shelf of her pantry. 

“Take off your heels.”

“Why?” 

“If we need to run away, your heels are going to be an issue.” 

“You underestimate me.”

Chris led the way to the kitchen, but Naz kept close behind. Peering past the wall, she spotted the silhouette of a masculine body. 

He was shirtless, with the lower half of his body hidden behind the kitchen island. He opened the fridge, illuminating his face. 

“Oh my God.” Naz said, a little too loudly. He jumped at this, slamming the fridge shut and dropping a container of marshmallow fluff on the floor. 

“Holy shit!” He yelled.

Chris flicked on the light switch, illuminating the room, and relief washed over Naz. 

Michael B. Jordan was half naked in her kitchen, which meant only one thing. 

“Mike!” Chris exclaimed, taking two large strides towards him, before Naz could process what was happening.

“Woah, Chris? What's up, man? How are you? What the hell are you doing here?” 

Chris gave him a hug, patting his back, before pulling back. 

“Good, good, dude. How do you know Naz?”

“He doesn’t.” Naz interjected. 

He smiled, sheepishly. “Sorry.” He reached out to shake her hand. “I'm Mike, and you are?” He introduced himself. 

“Naz.”

“Naz?” 

She rolled her eyes. So Kira was a jerk who didn't inform Mike that this wasn't, in fact, her own home.

“Kira’s sister. And the actual owner of this apartment and the marshmallow fluff.” 

Michael’s eyes widened. “Oh, no shit?” He chuckled. “Sorry. Again, then.”

Chris remained confused, quirking a brow.

“Mike, here, I assume, has been sleeping with Kira.” Naz explained.

“Ooh.” Chris smirked. 

“You don’t really beat around the  bush, do you?” Michael laughed, nervously, scratching the back of his head.

Naz deadpanned. “What gave me away?”

“Right...” Kira’s voice from behind them started. She was standing, wearing nothing but what was evidently Michael’s dress shirt. “This is awkward.” 

“Yeah, you probably should let your sister know if you're planning on using my house to entertain…” She looked Michael up and down. “People.”

“Sorry, you said you were going out tonight.” Kira said, matter-of-factly.

“Yes.” Naz said, pointing at Chris, as if he was exhibit A. “Which I did. And now, I’ve returned, to  _ my _ home.” 

“Naz—” Chris cut in. 

“Wait, Chris, I’m talking.”

“No, I just—” He lurched. “Where's your bathroom, I’m going to—”

Michael reached out to him. “Fuck, man are you okay?”

“Babe, what's going on?”

“First door on your left.” Kira said, eyes wide.

Chris’ face was red, and he was profusely sweating. Rushing out of the kitchen, he ran straight to the washroom, barely making it to the toilet before vomiting into it.

“What the fuck.” Naz groaned, rushing after him. 

Except she felt her own stomach churn as well. 

Oh no.

She knew what this was.

Naz felt the bile rise up in her throat. “Fuck, move!” She scrambled to the toilet, shoving Chris’ lifeless body aside. 

She lurched, hurling her insides into the basin. 

“Oh,  _ God.”  _ Chris moaned, lying on the cold tile floor of her bathroom, “Must’ve been the lasagna.” 

“I’m  _ never _ having dinner with you again.”

\--

**_12:34 AM:_ **

“I’m sorry.” Chris said. “This probably wasn't the first date you imagined.” 

“Huh?”

They were still laying on the bathroom floor, having effectively vomited their insides out. 

Kira and Michael had come in to check on them every few minutes, but Naz insisted they were fine and that they should just go to bed. She wasn't in the mood to grill Kira on everything wrong she had ever done in her life, and frankly wanted to just suffer alone.

Chris shifted so he was sitting up against the wall. “I’m sorry about this.” He dropped his head and shook it, laughing. 

Naz couldn't believe him. This man, this beautiful, kind, generous man was berating himself for food poisoning. 

“You're sorry? Michael B. Jordan was naked in my kitchen.”

“I guess we  _ did  _ run into a surprising number of your exes.” He conceded. 

“Okay, Hugh does not count an as ex.”

“He totally does.”

“He would fuck a mailbox.”

“You are a beautiful mailbox.”

Naz burst out laughing. “Shut up, Chris.” She turned to face him, pulling him back to lay on the tile. “I could give no fucks about all the shitty logistics about tonight. And besides, aside from the wild run-in with Hugh, wild run-in with Michael, and food poisoning, it was a solid night overall.”

He smiled, weakly. 

“Honestly.” She said. “I enjoy being with you.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Does this first date epitomize our relationship, though?”

He thought for a moment, contemplating this. “Baffling… unexpected and incredibly hot?” 

“Exactly what part of tonight was incredibly hot?” She said, incredulously.

“Naked Michael B. Jordan in your kitchen.” 

Naz barked a laugh, slapping Chris’s chest playfully. “I hate you. He's still here. He’s probably hearing all of this.” 

Chris made a face. “So? I should yell—  _ MICHAEL I WANT YOUR BEAUTIFUL BABIES—”  _

“ _ Chris!” _ Naz couldn't help herself, her body aching from the food poisoning and laughing too much. 

“We’re friends, he's probably so weirded out right now.” 

“I can't believe Kira really invited her fuck-buddy over to  _ my _ house.”

“Sneaky girl. You both have a type.”

“Oh, yeah? And what is that?” 

“The Human Torch.”

Naz giggled, “Fuck off.” 

“You said something earlier. When we thought we were gonna die.”

“When I thought  _ I _ was going to die,” she corrected.

“You basically said you were my girlfriend.” He had a smug smile on his face.

Naz bit her lip. “You heard that, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“We’ve only been on one date.” 

“But we  _ are _ married.”

“Do we have to label it…” She said, honestly. “I’m alright with what we have right now. Can we just… Take it slow?” 

He looked a little hurt, but masked it well. Naz gnawed at her lip. 

After a long pause, he spoke. “Look.” He said. “I just wanted an excuse to dress up, go out, buy you flowers, and talk. ‘Cause this is the fun part.” 

“Really?” Naz smirked, looking up at the toilet. 

“Well not  _ this _ , precisely. But the honeymoon phase. It's always been a favourite of mine. So yeah, ’course we can go slow.”

“You really are a hopeless romantic.”

“I'm hoping to revive the hopeless romantic in you too.”

Naz shrugged. “We’ll see.”

“I enjoy being with you, too.” He said, a stupid smile creeping up his face.

He leaned forward, pulling her chin to his. 

Naz’s hand pushed up against his chest, stopping him. “Are you going to kiss me? Vomit breath.” 

“Shut up and kiss me, vomit breath.”   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING LOVES!!   
> I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter!!! i had to have a lil bit of a cameo of some of my fave actors lol. so i hope you enjoyed that!! Comments make me very happy and help me update faster! tell me what you thought!! <333


	18. the one with the kitchen intervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello friends!!! im finally back with an update!!  
> school has been brutal, and i have a bunch of term papers due next week, which means probably no update after this guy for at least a week :( 
> 
> aside from that;  
> I really wanted to get naz in an element where she felt comfortable to talk to her foc (friends of colour) about everything!!! even if she's perpetually annoyed at kira and suspicious of michael, I think they're good for her. anyway, thank u for tuning in and i hope u enjoy :)))

“Aw. They're cute.”

Naz awoke on her bathroom floor with Chris. He was passed out next to her. She looked up to see Kira hovering above them, leaning up against the doorframe. Michael was standing behind her, with a bowl of cereal in his hand.

“Stop crunching so loudly.” Naz groaned.

“You eat cereal without milk?” Kira asked him, disgust evident in her voice.

Michael shrugged. “Yeah? What's your deal?”

“Gross.”

“Fuck off.” He playfully nudged her arm. “Hey, Naz.” Michael said, happily. “Your apartment’s dope.”

Naz ignored him. “Why are you two still here?” Naz grumbled, covering her eyes from the light.

“Why didn't you tell me you were fucking Chris?” Kira retorted.

Naz glared. “Can you… not.” She looked over at Michael, concerned. She didn't need Kira announcing it to everyone on the planet.

Michael made a face. “What?” He asked, looking up from his cereal. “You think I didn’t know that? When you scared the fuck out of me last night Chris had lipstick down his neck.”

“He’s not wrong.” Kira deadpanned.

Naz rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know he’s not _wrong_ , Kira, I just prefer to keep my business private.”

“No offense,” Michael said, “cause I mean this in the best way possible, but I straight up don't care about your love life.”

Naz blinked. “Thanks, Mike.”

He smiled, cheerfully. “No worries.”

“So, the office of immigration called.” Kira started. This caught Naz’s attention. She elbowed Chris, who jolted awake.

“Get up.”

“Huh? What's happening?” He rubbed his eyes. Looking up at Kira and Michael, he chuckled. “Why do we have an audience?”

Naz ignored him. “What about immigration, Kira?”

“I figured you should know they wanted to remind you that your appointment is tomorrow.” Kira shrugged.

“Appointment?” Chris asked, yawning, before shifting upright.

“Yeah, immigration, remember? The interview.”

“Oh. Right.”

“What’s the interview for?” Michael asked, between crunchy mouthfuls.

Naz, Chris and Kira stared at him. “Immigration.”

“No shit.” Michael said, sarcastically. “Obviously, I heard that part. I mean, what for?”

“I’m Canadian.” Naz said. “So. We’re married.”

“Forreal?” He asked.

“Which part?”

“Both.”

Chris leaned against the counter, looking down at Naz, and then back at Michael, he shook his head, laughing. “It's a long story.”

\--

Chris left quickly later that morning. He explained he felt terrible for disappearing, especially after providing Naz with “absolutely no much needed morning sex”, but that Dodger was home with Scott and he needed to go to work. They agreed to meet up before the meeting with the immigration officer the following day, and made plans for coffee. And with that he kissed her goodbye, lingering and dirty, to which Michael whistled and Kira hollered sitting at the kitchen island. Naz shot them a glare, but patted Chris’ ass as he left.

She headed to the kitchen, after having showered and changed, rummaging through her cabinet for quick-oatmeal. To her disdain, Kira and Michael were still there.

However, to her relief, at least they were both clothed.

“So, you planning on being honest with me any time soon?” Kira said, sipping her coffee.

“Honestly, Kira, you snuck into my house and brought your boy toy--no offense, Michael--” She said, turning to him sitting at the table.

“None taken.”

“--And now expect me to tell you everything that's gone down with Chris?”

“Pretty much.” She shrugged.

“I want my key back.”

Kira ignored her. “Why won't you acknowledge that you guys are in a relationship?”

“Are _you_ two?” Naz said, pointing at Kira and Mike.

“No,” Kira said, without hesitation, “but we both knew that entering into this. Neither of us have time for a real relationship.”

“Chris definitely has feelings for you.” Mike chimed in.

“How would you know?” Naz said, sitting down at the table.

“Because he’s _that_ guy. Very romantic, very extra, and from what Kira’s told me he's clearly stuck through despite some pretty wild shit going on with you.”

“Right, but he was also my friend before we started dating.”

“Was he though?” Kira asked. “You said it yourself, you guys went from rivals to fucking in under a week.”

“That was tequila.”

“Whatever. Why won't you admit you could see a future here? It's not like he’s getting any younger.”

Naz shifted in her seat. She gave Michael a glance. “You promise you don't give a shit about my love life?” She said, looking at him.

“One-hundred percent.”

“You won't go running and blabbing this to Chris? I don't know how close you guys are. There was a serious reunion in here last night.”

Michael smiled, and it was very convincing. He had a certain charm to him that made it difficult to stay irritated. “We ain't that tight. I promise.” He said. “And besides, I give incredible advice, just ask Kira. Maybe I can help.”

She sighed, and then shook her head, getting up to grab her mug from the microwave. “It's whatever, alright? I just don't think I’m his type so I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“What's his type?” Kira asked.

“White and brunette.”

“Ooh.”

It was a combined sound that came from both Kira and Michael.

Naz barked a laugh. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Well, it’s not revolutionary to say you’re neither.” Michael said, matter-of-factly.

“Isn't he an ass man, though?” Kira asked.

“Is anyone not?” Michael interjected.

Kira shot him a glare. “I'm highly offended by this.”

Naz snickered, to which Kira frowned. She had always had a bit of a chalkboard extending from her back down, regardless of how many avocados or squats she incorporated into her life. Naz had seemingly capitalized on all of the ass-genes in the family.

Michael laughed, pulling Kira into an embrace, “I’m sorry. Your boobs are great.”

“Ew,” Naz groaned. “No PDA in my kitchen, focus. We’re not talking about your bony ass, Kira.”

Kira made a face.

“Nah, wait.” Michael started, leaning back against the counter. “You're not ready to commit to this dude cause you think you're not his type, which granted, you aren't--”

“Except the ass--” Kira added.

“--Yet, he’s the one who's been constantly insisting on a relationship? How does that add up.”

“While you make valid points I’m choosing to ignore them to ask how do you know so much about my relationship?” She shot a glare at Kira. “How does he know so much about _my_ relationship?”

“Pillowtalk.” Kira defended.

“So you tell him who I’m fucking and not that this is my house.” Naz rolled her eyes.

Kira shrugged.

Naz sighed, “I guess, no, it's not that,” Naz said to Michael, “I get that he's the one who's been in it, committed and I don't have to worry about him dropping me ‘cause he’s bored. But I also don't want to be some experiment, you know?”

“I highly doubt he’s thought of it like that.” Michael said.

Kira interjected “I don't think that's what Naz is trying to say, though.”

“You think Chris is just fucking around?”

“No,” Kira walked over to the sink, putting her mug inside. “It's not that Chris’ feelings aren't genuine, Mike. I really do think he likes Naz a lot. But I get it, ”

Naz swallowed, “Honestly? I'm worried he’s gonna realize his feelings aren't enough and I don't fit the archetype for his life-- If you put that dish in the sink, you’re going to wash it you fucking leech.”

“Cause you're not white?” Michael asked, ignoring Naz and Kira’s bickering.

Naz pursed her lips. “Pretty much.”

Michael shook his head. “I get how that's a thing, I do, but I don’t think Chris is like that.”

“It's not that Chris is like that or unlike that, Mike,” Kira explained, apparently abiding by Naz’s rules and scrubbing down her mug. “It's that its underlying. Subconscious, even--”

“You're spilling coffee all over my tile!”

“Calm down I’ll get it.” Kira groaned.

“Yeah, yeah, totally.” Michael said.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Naz added, ignoring Kira wiping up her mess. “I’m not saying I think Chris thinks I’m not gonna fit his life because I’m brown. I’m saying he’s _tended_ to have a type and I’m concerned this relationship won’t hold up to whatever compelled him to go for his type in the first place. Does that make any sense?”

There was a pause, before Michael spoke. “Yeah, for sure, it does.”

Kira gave Naz a pitiful smile.

“Look,” Michael said, “Has he given you any indication that he isn't feeling this?”

Naz didn't have to think for that one. “No.”

“Does he listen to you? Like, _actually_ listen?” Kira asked.

“Yeah…” Naz smiled. “He does.”

“Has he ever compared your skin tone to chocolate?” Mike said.

Kira barked a laugh at this, and Naz rolled her eyes laughing too. “Thank fuck, no, he hasn't.”

“Then I think you’re doing alright.” Kira smirked.

Naz sighed. “Then why do I still feel terrified to commit to him?”

“Is it the actor thing?” Kira asked.

Michael raised a brow. “What’s wrong with actors?”

“Nothing, Naz just has this _thing_.”

“It’s not a thing.” Naz said, irritated. “It's just a couple rules I don’t break in my love life.”

“She doesn’t date actors, republicans or people who like Fight Club.”

Michael chuckled. “What’s so bad about Fight Club?”

Kira rolled her eyes. “The more important point, I think, is what’s so bad about actors?”

“Nothing!” Naz groaned. “I just don’t want to be second to anyone’s job, watch my partner make out with other people for a living, and jet around the world for half the year without me.”

“When has Chris ever pegged you as the guy who picks his job over a woman.” Michael scoffed. “Trust me, because I definitely value my career right now, and I think the commitment it involves necessitates a pretty relaxed love life, but Chris is not that guy. He would dump the whole Cap gig the second you say you love him.”

“You said you guys weren’t tight?” Naz squinted at him, accusingly. “How do you know so much about him?”

“Yeah, but Naz, I have eyes.”

Kira nodded in agreement, as if she knew Chris, too.

“Look.” Mike said. “He’s not the type to make you second to anything. And if you’re worried about him screwing actresses he works with or whatever, that’s a trust thing, not an actor thing.”

“Okay.” Naz said, getting up. “That’s enough psychoanalysis for the day.”

“You’re just mad cause we’re right.” Kira said.

“Or,” Naz said, opening her fridge. “Because you heathens ate the last of my fucking cheesecake.”

\--

The following day it was finally time. Sitting in the waiting room for the immigration agent was incredibly nerve wracking. Naz felt her blood pressure rising, her heart race and her palms sweat. She was freaking the fuck out, and Chris wasn't here yet.

They decided on a simple story. It went something like this: they met on set a few months ago, and began dating, simple enough. Over the M&M pre-wedding weekend, they decided to elope and have been happy, cheery newly-weds ever since. They went on walks together, both enjoyed animals and Disney, and had yet to meet each other's family because they loved their newly-wed bubble.

It wasn't the perfect story, and it wasn’t all that believable, but it would have to do. They were really going to have to play up the lovey-dovey routine. Naz felt sick.

At that moment, Chris entered the room. “Sorry--” He apologized. “I had something come up.”

“Everything okay?” Naz asked, he was sweating profusely. She hoped it was from the running and not the nerves.

“What? Oh, yes, totally.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “How are you feeling, baby? All good?”

“Good, good, nervous.”

“Don't be. It'll be fine.”

“You ready? We’re gonna have to play up the PDA, annoying, in love couple, shit.”

“Sweetheart, I act for a living.” He smirked. “And besides, it can't be that hard to pretend you're in love with me?”

A playful smile was on his face, and Naz felt her heart thudding in her chest.

“Don't freak out on me now, lovebug,” He said, voice lowered. His hand rubbed at the small of her back. “Just kidding around.”

“What? I’m not.” She lied.

“Good.”

A voice called them from the office.

“Nazanin Rukmani Dubey,” The receptionist called out. Naz winced at the butchering, “and Christopher Robert Evans.”

The receptionist beckoned them inside, with Naz leading the way. Chris’ hand caught hers and gave it a squeeze. He told them to sit, and that the officer would be in in a moment.

The room was small, one cramped desk in the corner, with a dusty lamp atop it, and a crooked silver placard that read _James Callaghan_. Chris sat down beside her and glanced around the room. Naz was beginning to feel her heart rate rise.

“Hey,” Chris whispered, looking over at her. He rubbed her hand. Without hesitation he said, “Five things you see.”

He knew her better than she could’ve predicted; and he knew what she was experiencing. “Dusty ass lamp.” She said, “shitty rug. Door behind us. That painting on the wall. And you, of course.”

He smiled. “Four things you can touch.”

She felt around with one hand. “My blazer. The wood of this chair.” Her other hand in Chris’ felt safe. She squeezed it. “Your skin. Your warmth.”

“Three things you hear.”

“Rummaging outside. Sirens. My breathing.”

“Two things you can smell.”

“You, again. Do you do this for fun? You're very aromatic.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Chris teased.

“No,” Naz chuckled, feeling herself calming down, “no, it's not. You smell like cologne and laundry detergent.”

“What else?”

“Cookies. Vaguely cookies.”

Chris shook his head, laughing. “One thing you taste.” He whispered.

“Gimme a kiss.”

He leaned into her, his fingers drawing her chin to his. Slowly, he kissed her, without any urgency. Like he was happy kissing her for the rest of his life. She would be. She sighed, content. “You. You taste like cookies.”

“I do, do I?”

“Yes.”

“I have a confession about that,” He said, pausing.

“Is right now the time for that?” Naz said, nervously.

“My mother’s in town.” Chris said. “And I’d like you to meet her.”

“What--”

The door swung open obnoxiously, pulling Naz out of her bubble. It was the bird-man, James Callaghan.

“Alright,” Callaghan said, storming into the room, and sitting down behind his desk. “Let's get started, then, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay thank you so much for reading guys!!! comments help motivate me to write faster as always and i will do my best to get another update up as soon as i can. for now, though, imagine kira drowning in political theory, because thats me and a Big Old Mood.


	19. the one with the interview

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been missing for two weeks because surprise: i went to new york!!! Where i, in fact, did see Lobby Hero with Chris in it (it is phenomenal i highly recommend it) 
> 
> and then i Met Chris Evans.
> 
> yes   
> u read that correctly.  
> this fool actually met him.
> 
> i MET CHRIS EVANS 
> 
> i told him to post more pictures of dodger on twitter. he said yes he is a sweetheart. then i said i loved scott more than him and he said he did too, and then i dragged him for his hideous moustache i told him it was appalling and it fit the character he played (Bill is this Horible Dude) and he LAUGHED WAS SUCH A GOOD SPORT AND IT WAS SO CUTE AND HE SAID THATS WHAT ITS ALL ABOUT
> 
> i made chris evans laugh  
> you know how iconic i feel?  
> SO ICONIC  
> I feel like this is a good excuse for posting 3848 Years later so forgive me ❤️
> 
> long story short  
> i literally made chris evans laugh so I CAN DIE HAPPy
> 
> now  
> im sosososo sorry this chapter is short. but i figured i would rather post what i have now, to at least give you guys an update, and hopefully will have a longer one up by friday
> 
> SO without further adieu  
> enjoy !!

“Good morning, both of you. I’m Agent James Callaghan.” He didn't take a moment’s pause, rummaging through paperwork on his desk. “Nazanin, is it?” He asked.

“Naz is fine.” 

“Alright, Naz.” Callaghan said, placing files on his desk. “The state of your spousal visa will be contingent upon my recommendation from what I discern today in this interview.” 

Naz nodded, swallowing. Her throat felt so fucking dry and her palms were beginning to get clammy. She clasped them together, taking a deep breath, trying to ease her anxiety.

Callaghan continued, “The requirement to attend this process is only necessary as I have suspected a level of uncertainty, desperation and lack of intent regarding this ‘marriage.’” He put scare quotes around marriage, pulling out a document. It was the marriage license issued by Nevada. 

Chris scoffed. “Well,” He said, “I’m sure we’d all seem a little desperate and uncertain five minutes after we were told our lives were about to be upended over a paperwork error.” Naz shot Chris a concerned look, but he remained unphased. He reached out his hand, grasping hers and running his fingers over her knuckles, gently.

Callaghan stayed stoic. “Right.” He pursed his lips, looking over the Nevada license twice, beady eyes plastered to the page. “Well, let me get straight to the point, then. The way this works is simple. Today, you will be split off into two rooms to answer relevant questions to your relationship. If, at any point, I detect you're lying, I will deny your request for a spousal visa, and have it seen through you will be deported immediately without possibility of re-entry.” 

Naz swallowed again. Chris squeezed her hand.

“Now, you, Chris Evans,” He flipped the page. “Would have committed a felony, punishable by up to $250,000 and up to five years in prison.”

Prison. 

Mother fucking prison.

Naz was going to have a stroke. 

Except, Chris smirked. She couldn't understand how or why he was able to maintain his calm exterior, but he stayed sitting upright with a smug grin plastered on his face, hand intertwined with hers. 

“Look,” He said, “Mr. Callaghan, is it?” He was mocking him. “I’ll make this simple, as well.”

Naz’s heart was racing. She shot him another fleeting glance of worry, hoping he wouldn't make more of a fuss. Her fingers dug into his palm, but he ignored her. 

“Naz and I met through work, hit it off and decided to get together. I’m nearly 37, and definitely want to settle down, so it made sense not to wait.” He reached out, placing his other hand on Naz’s knee. With his stupidly pretty blue eyes he looked over at her, fluttering his flirty lashes. “We fell in love.” He said, as if it was the most goddamn obvious thing in the world. Her heart raced. “We’re just two people who fell in love, and I’d like for my wife to be entitled to the same rights that I am, and this is the first step towards that.” 

Callaghan continued to squint at them with his beady eyes. “Well rehearsed speech there, Mr. Evans?” He sneered.

“No,” Chris said. “But I’m intrigued as to why you think so?”

“Chris.” Naz grit her teeth. 

“No, sweetheart.” He shook his head. “This is bullshit. You’ve lived here for five years, pay taxes, contribute to the economy in a way that's more significant than a lot of people who are citizens.” He turned to Callaghan. “What gives you the right to question her status, or anyone else’s for that matter? You're really spending all this time, effort and tax money interrogating something as trivial as a Vegas wedding. Do you ask every American citizen that gets married whether they had prior intent to do so?”  

Naz knew Chris was invested, but this was unexpected. He was outright interrogating Callaghan, leaving the beady-eyed man in a perpetual state of shock.

Callaghan raised his eyebrows. “If I’m being frank, Ms. Dubey’s marital situation wasn't ever documented prior to her needing protection from deportation. Wouldn't you say that's suspicious?” 

“So you're saying the marriage certificate issued by Nevada is irrelevant?” He retorted. “Is that not documentation?” 

“It's suspicious documentation.”

“But it's  _ legal _ documentation, nonetheless.” 

“So you think it's alright to allow people to abuse the system?”

“How exactly does her marriage to an American citizen constitute genuine abuse, here? You've  _ assumed _ she’s lying and you ignore the fact she contributes to the very system you're accusing her of abusing.”

“Look.” Callaghan took a deep breath. “Clearly, you have your opinions--”

“You're damn right.” 

“How about we just get started? You can take up your issues and opinions on the laws of this nation elsewhere.” 

Chris scoffed. “You bet I fuckin’ will.”

Callaghan ignored him, flipping two pages on his desk. “I was initially going to do Naz’s interview, but considering the circumstances, I will conduct yours instead, Chris.”

Clearly Chris’ taunt had him intrigued and irritated. 

“Naz, my associate Patricia will be conducting your interview in the next room over.” 

Naz nodded, getting up. Chris got up as well, his hand travelling to the small of her back. He pulled her into a chaste kiss, to which Naz melted. “You'll do great, my love.” Chris said.

“You too.” Naz whispered. 

Callaghan let out an exasperated sigh. 

And with that, Naz left them both in the room, alone.

\--

“Full Name?”

“Mine or his?” Naz asked. 

Patricia was a stern faced woman, with terrifyingly long nails that clinked against her laptop keys every five seconds. 

She peered over the rim of her cat-eye glasses, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Sorry…” Naz said, “his, then?” 

Patricia sighed. 

It was extremely helpful.

“Christopher Robert Evans.” 

“Significance?”

“Uh, his mom liked the name Chris, and his dad’s name is Robert.” 

“Siblings.”

“Three. Carly, Scott, Shanna.” 

“Who is he closest to?”

“Scott, but they’re all very close.” 

“Tell me about his childhood.”

Naz wracked her brain. “Born in Boston, grew up in Sudbury…” She recanted all the facts Chris had drilled into her, from his first time at summer camp to his favourite pet fish. 

“How did you two meet?”

“Work. We work together. He’s an actor and I’m the HR. consultant for Marvel Studios, his current employer.” 

“Are you both sexually active?”

Patricia came for blood. 

Naz groaned internally. “Yes.” 

The interview was long and drawn out. Patricia asked Naz everything from her professional to her sex life with Chris and it felt like she was being strip searched but with words. As they had predicted, Patricia asked her about Chris’s family, his likes and his dislikes, his exes, his history, his quirks and his tells. She surprised even herself with the amount of things she knew about Chris. She knew he preferred tea to coffee, but only lately, that he was incredibly in love with challenging himself with philosophy regardless of whether it made sense or not. That he loved the idea of romance in absolutely everything, that his mother taught him all the traits he felt defined him as a person, he hated red wine, adored cookies and cream ice cream, and that he had always dreamed of settling down in a Boston suburb with two kids and a dog. 

She tried to play up the disgusting lovey-dovey couple shit, but found herself more and more invested in talking about him than she could have ever predicted.

Patricia seemed pleased with Naz’s answers, but she couldn't really tell. Between the glaring and the intrusive questions she could've been plotting her death for all Naz knew.

Her interview ended before Chris’ and she was led out into the waiting area again. She thought over what Chris had asked her before Callaghan had entered. He wanted her to meet his mother. 

That wasn't something to be done after one date, let alone with someone with the baggage Naz had.

What if his mother hated her? What if she thought Naz was a gold digger trying to fuck up her son’s life? Or worse, who was playing him for a green card. 

She didn't do well with mothers. She needed to tell Chris. 

But then she thought about him. She remembered hearing the way he stood up for her with Callaghan, and for more than just her, but for what he believed was injustice, and it made her so fucking proud. She knew he learned that somewhere, and she knew his mother raised him right. 

She sat, waiting outside Callaghan’s door for him, tapping her foot eagerly and nervously.

She heard rustling come from inside and sat upright. He stepped out, straightened his suit jacket and glanced over at her. Seeing him compelled her in a way she couldn't describe. She thought about the way he touched her, held her and made her feel safe.

Everything was felt okay with him. 

She pushed herself out of the chair, taking two large strides towards Chris and practically pounced on him. She wrapped her arms around him, engulfing his body in a crushing hug. 

He turned his face to press a kiss to her hair. “What's this for?” He laughed, rubbing the small of her back.

“Thank you.” She whispered. “For being you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COMMENTS MAKE ME HAPPY!!! let me know what you think!!! as always, thank you so much for reading, angels. BIG LOVE


	20. the one where naz is drowning in ruffles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM BACK FINALLY  
> long chapter so dont hate me this took too long  
> NSFW warning theres smut yall

“This is silly.”

“What?”

“I look like a fucking--” Naz scrolled the curtain away, revealing Chris on the side, sitting with one leg up on a bench.

They were inside a bridal shop, having been sent there by Meenal. It seemed like only yesterday the bridal party had got together in Vegas, and Naz had married Chris. She had almost forgot that an actual wedding was supposed to take place.

So Meenal had picked out dresses for bridesmaids. There were two, one for the civil ceremony, and lenghas, traditional Indian dresses, for the traditional Indian half of her wedding. It was ambitious, Naz could tell that much. And she fucking hated Meenal’s taste.

She knew it was an active decision, picking out a marshmallow of a dress in a hideous pale yellow. Naz looked like a chicken crossed with a melting cake. There were ruffles.

Ruffles.

Fucking everywhere.

Chris snorted at the sight of her.

“Don't laugh at me, you dick.” She huffed, doing a 360 in front of the mirror. It didn't get any better, despite the different angle.

“Sorry.” He said. “You look precious, sweetheart.” He lied.

“I look like a cotton candy machine vomited on me.”

“That's true.”

Naz rolled her eyes. Huffing, she pulled up the several layers of satin fabric to try and move around. “Why is Meenal such an asshole? When I get married I’m not forcing my bridesmaids into these atrocious outfits.” She craned her neck. “You're fucking kidding me.” She grumbled.

“What?” Chris said, leaning back in his seat, clearly amused by this. Max was easy. He had chosen black tie for all his groomsmen, so Chris sat happily in his NASA ball cap and jeans, with his gorgeous tuxedo next to him.

“There's a fucking bow on my ass.” Naz groaned.

He chuckled, getting up to embrace her from behind. “It appears there is.” He gave her a small swat on the butt, to which Naz smirked.

“You're enjoying this too much and I’m cursing you for it.”

Chris smirked. “Just a bit, yeah.”

“This is atrocious.” She laughed. “Wow.”

“You look like a big meringue!”

Naz’s eyes widened, spinning around she grinned. “Did you just--”

“Quote _Four Weddings_ at you?”

“God,” Naz pulled him by the shirt towards her. “You're fucking dreamy.”

“I try.” He leaned down and kissed her softly. His tongue escaped his mouth, toying at hers, “Come over tonight?” He said, panting, as he pulled away slightly.

“I have a shit ton of paperwork.” She said, composing herself.

Chris sighed. “Right. Forgot.”

“Why don't you come over and do it? We can order in.”

“Sure.” Naz said.

Naz entered the changeroom booth again, pulling him inside. “Unzip me, please.”

“‘Course.”

They had briefly spoken about his mother after the interview last week. Apparently she was in town for the next couple weeks, and Chris was thrilled.

Rightfully so, Naz tried to reason with herself. It's not like he had called her out here with the hopes to introduce her to his Canadian wife of six weeks.

Or so he said.

Apparently she just… Showed up.

Naz tried to believe it, she really did. But he was so fucking eager for her to meet his mother, that she couldn't help but raise her eyebrows at the way these events had transpired.

Regardless, she stayed firm. She was in no position to see anyone's mother.

Not even her own, let alone her Vegas husband, turned boyfriend’s.

She rethought his invitation tonight.

“Your mom’s not staying with you right?” She questioned, feeling his hands on her skin.

_Focus, Naz_. She told herself. He knew what he was doing, running his fingers down her body.

He paused when she spoke. He sighed.

She turned to face him. “Is she?”

“No, she's staying with Scott.”

“Okay.”

He guided her arms up to pull off the top half of the dress.

“It's not that I _don't_ want to meet her…” Naz started again.

“I’d like you to.” He said, kissing her shoulder.

“I know.”

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“I get if you want to spend time with her.” Naz said. “And I _really_ appreciate you respecting my choice with regards to not meeting her just yet.”

Chris snorted. “Is that sarcasm?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“What's so wrong about me wanting to introduce my _wife_ to my mother?”

“Chris.”

“What!? It's true.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Naz groaned, pulling off another fucking piece of the dress, this time by herself. “You know we’re just dating. Think about how fucking crazy it would be if you introduced another chick you were sleeping with to your mom after what,

three weeks of really being together?”

Chris’ jaw clenched. “You really just see me as someone you're sleeping with?” He let out a cold laugh. “Wow. Thanks. That's good to hear.”

“You know that's not what I mean.” She said quickly.

“That's what you said.”

Naz sighed. “Look. I’m sorry. But imagine being in my position. If this was my mother. You think you’d be cool with this so soon? Especially considering our situation.”

“You want me to meet your mother?”

“No! Fuck no. That's my point.”

Chris raised his brows. “Should I be concerned with how fast that was?”

“It's not that.” She groaned. “Not you, anyway. My mother’s crazy.”

“All moms are a little bit crazy.”

“You haven't met mine.”

“Aaaand… I’d like to.” He said again.

“You're missing the point.”

“Sorry.” He shook his head. “Sorry, no. You're right. I’m blowing this out of proportion.”

“I don't have to come over tonight.” She shrugged her jeans back on. “You can spend time with your mom.”

“No,” He said quickly. “I want you to come over. I can spend time with her whenever.” He ran his hands over her bare shoulders. “I feel like we’re in a really good place right now. I don't want to fuck it up.”

“Right?” She twisted her fingers in his hair. “And we have time. I promise, we’ll revisit this.”

It looked like it was still bothering him. But he smiled, nonetheless. “Course.”

“Can you help me find my t-shirt?” Naz asked, walking around the cramped change room. “It’s in one of those piles.”

He began searching. “You're doing alright with all the publicity, though?” He said, changing the subject.

They had run into some paps outside the bridal shop. She knew that was going to look suspicious in the press.

“Yeah. I’m a big girl, Chris.” Naz said, moving shopping bags around.

“I’m just checking in. I don't want you to ever feel trapped by my shit. You didn't choose it.”

“Hey.” Naz snapped, turning to him, wagging a finger. “Don't pull your dramatic shit on me. I can handle it.”

The last thing she needed was him to feel even worse. She already felt bad enough for being terrified to meet his mother. She needed him to know she wanted this.

Just… On her own terms.

“You sure?” He asked again, tossing her the t-shirt.

“Promise.”

“Alright.” He looked relieved.

“Now. Can we stop for ice cream? I’m suddenly craving something with marshmallows.”

\--

“What language is this? French?” Chris asked, pulling her earbud out of her ear. Naz had come over for dinner. They ordered Indian food from a place Naz’s mother recommended, and she was perched on Chris’ sofa finishing up paperwork.

“Yeah, I’ve been on this weird kick of just listening to Francophone music.” She said, setting the last of her files on the coffee table.

“It's good.” He toyed with her hair. “Very Canadian of you.”

Naz snorted. “Shut up.”

“Do you understand French?”

“Nah. I mean the basics, sure. But I never really felt the need to. I learned it from grade six to nine and then stopped.”

“Bilingualism though?”

“Kira can speak fluently, but that's because she thought she was going to enter politics for a while. And yeah, bilingualism is a thing, but I lived in predominantly Anglophone areas, so it never really warranted the necessity.”

“Right, right, makes sense.”

“What about you? Can you speak any other languages?”

Chris snorted. “No, I’m useless. I can say like a sentence or two in Spanish. Nothing to deserve actual praise for.”

Naz laughed. “True.”

“What time is it?”

“Twenty past midnight.”

“Fuck, already? Jesus, no wonder I’m so tired.”

“Wanna head to bed?”

Chris pulled her off the couch and kissed her deep. “Yes please.” He said, pulling her into his bedroom.

\---

After her nightly routine had been exhausted, Naz joined Chris on the bed. He was shirtless, in a pair of pajama bottoms, scrolling through his phone. She climbed atop him and kissed him. He responded with enthusiasm, but kept the kisses chaste.

She kissed him again, slow and languid. Chris’s hands came up to cradle her face, but he pulled away, kissing the top of her head, closing his eyes.

Naz had different plans.

She hooked a leg around his hip, rolling Chris onto his back and straddling him.

“Looks like someone’s excited.” She teased, rolling her hips and grazing his clothed cock.

“Yeah?” He murmured, looking up at her through hooded eyelids. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

“Oh, what, _I_ have to do the work, now?” She said sarcastically.

Chris quirked a brow, hands gripping her jaw, fingers playing with her bottom lip. She let her mouth drop open, and he slipped two fingers inside. Closing her mouth around them she sucked, letting her tongue drag up the bottom, making an exaggerated popping noise as she pulled off.

“Jesus, fuck.” He cursed. “Dirty girl.”

It was Naz’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“You wanna hear a fun fact about me?” She said, crawling backwards down his stomach. “Remember the first time you saw me naked? The bathroom in Vegas?”

“After you bruised your ass, yes.” Chris chuckled, reminiscing as he pulled her hair to the side.

“Let me talk, I’m trying to be sexy, here, asshole.”

“Sorry, sorry. Continue.”

“So…” Naz said, smirking. “The reason the floor was all wet, was because I had been jacking off like, five minutes prior.” She paused. “And I was thinking about you.”

“Intriguing.” Chris teased, this new information peaking his interest. “Do you do that a lot? Fuck yourself while thinking about me?”

She rolled her eyes, “God, you're so fucking on right now.”

“What do you think about? Tell me.”

Maneuvering herself down and grasping his cock in her hand. Kissing the tip of his cock lightly, she heard Chris suck in a breath, as she dragged her tongue up the head.

“Quite frankly, I think about this.” She said. She licked the underside of his cock, and took him in her mouth. Popping her lips off him she continued working him with her hand.

He cocked an eyebrow.

“When I fuck myself? I think about you fucking my face. I can come in a second thinking about the way your mouth hangs open when I run my finger on _this_ vein.” He gasped, fingers grasping the sheets around him.

“I think about the way you grunt and groan and I can get myself off without even touching my clit.”  
“Fuck, keep talking. Holy fuck.”

Naz did he asked, not before licking off the bead of precum that leaked from the head of his throbbing prick.

“Mmm. I think about when you come.” She laughed, playfully, speeding up her hand. “I think about how you get so spent and sweaty.”

He moaned. His face was pinking up, his body glistening with sweat, as she worked him, keen on making him come. She had one last trick up her sleeve, knowing this would push him over the edge. She went to bob her head again, but Chris stopped her.

“Stop.” He said, gasping, grabbing her hand.

“What?”

“Get up here. I’m gonna come.”

“That's the point.”

Chris snorted, pulling her up again.

She complied, straddling him. Chris’ hands tugged her panties aside, feeling her soaking through them. “You good?” He whispered, aligning his cock to her cunt.

“Yes. Fuck.”

With one swift move slipped inside her, letting her take control.

Naz moaned, grinding her hips down, feeling the familiar warmth building up in her stomach. “Fuck me, Chris.”

He moaned, shaking as she worked him hard, pumping his cock slow and deep.

She let her hand come up to his neck, curious.

He had a devilish smirk on his face. “Do it.” He said, between heaving breaths.

“You sure?”

“Fuck yes.”

Naz gasped, feeling his cock hit her again, right where she needed it, but her fingers wrapped around his neck. Tentatively, at first she applied the slighted pressure, and the moan that escaped Chris’s mouth was unmatchable. His breath caught in his throat and his mouth hung open.

“Come on, baby.” Naz cooed. “Come for me?”

He did, in an instant, his body tensing and writhing as long strings of come began spitting out of his cock. She moaned, never stopping her thrusts, feeling her own orgasm building. His hand joined hers at his throat and encouraged pressure.

The surge of power Naz felt was impeccable. She let herself give into him, her body reaching its much needed orgasm. She kept her thrusts slow, until she felt herself being pushed over the edges letting her orgasm take control of her body and feeling the come leak out of her.

His eyes were wide, panting heavily as he ran a hand through his hair. “You're gonna be the fucking death of me.”

Her hand immediately released pressure on his throat. “You kinky fuck!” She laughed. “You like being choked?”

“I told you I’m a switch.” He winked, through hooded eyes.

“Your neck is bright red. Fuck.” Naz said, eyes widening at the finger marks on his pale skin. She touched it softly. “I hope I didn't hurt you.” She whispered, suddenly worried.

Chris shook his head. “Fuck no. I loved it.”

“You might need a turtleneck.”

Chris shrugged. “How the tables have turned.”

“We should…”

“Clean up?” Chris sighed.

“Yeah.”

He wrapped possessively around her waist as they were so intimately connected. Naz leaned forward onto his chest as he stretched up to meet her lips in soft, tender, repeated kisses, barely grazing her lips with his full pout. “You stay here. I'll get a cloth.”

He slipped out of her, walking to the bathroom. Naz turned to the side, wrapping herself in his sheets. She had gotten used to this. The comfort. The aftercare. It had been a while since she had felt inclined to spend longer than two minutes in her partners bed after sex.

He returned quickly, a cloth in hand and a glass of water in another. He set the water beside her, before gently wiping down her body. Tossing the cloth in the laundry, he climbed back into bed, immediately pulling her to him, tangling their body together once more. She let lazy kisses drag up his neck, eager to feel his lips on hers again.

“Mm. How was work?”

“I don't wanna talk about work.” Naz sighed. “Talk to me about your deepest darkest secret.”

Chris laughed, dragging his hand up her back. “I know you don’t want to hear it...” He started.

Naz felt her heart pick up speed. This wasn't planned. “Chris… If this is about your mother.”

“It’s important to me. And I feel like you're not listening.” He looked at her, his bright blue eyes suddenly sad. “I’m allowed to be hurt. I know you said we can revisit, but I feel like...”

“You feel like what?” She whispered.

“Like you’re not as into me as I am you.”

Naz lay her ear against the tattoo near his collarbone. She could hear the loud fast thudding of his heart and sighed. She pressed her lips to his chest.

“I had meant to tell you earlier. I’m leaving for New York tomorrow.” She said.

His brow furrowed. “What?” He said, worried.

“It's only for a week and for work. I know it's not ideal considering the situation we’re in right now but it's necessary.”

“See.” He scoffed, pulling away from her embrace. “This is what I mean. How long have you known?”

“About a month.”

“And you never bothered to tell me?”

“It's a week, Chris.”

He shook his head, annoyed. “You're not getting it. Getting you to open up about shit is like pulling teeth.”

“Oh, come on, like you tell me everything?” She tugged at his arm, hurt he pulled away.

“I tell you a lot.”

Naz sighed, laying back down. “What do you want to know?”

“Things that you can't learn from an immigration textbook. I want to know _you_.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“I'm trying.” She whispered.

Chris took a deep breath, laying back down beside her. “Look, darling… I’m just… Ready.” He said, moving a strand of hair away from her face. “This is going somewhere right?”

Naz swallowed.

“Because I’m ready. And I need you to tell me what you expect from this.”

“Good sex, not a therapy session.” She said, bluntly.

“Naz.”

“Sorry.” She tilted her head away. “I'm being petulant.”

“That, you are.”

“Can we talk about this when I get back? I promise, I’ll be less crazy. The whole your mom’s in town thing has just really thrown me off.”

He didn't look happy about this, but nodded nonetheless. “Okay.”

She knew this conversation wasn't over, but at least she had just bought herself a week.

How she was supposed to tell him she couldn't do this, though, was beyond her.

She didn't want to hurt him, fuck, that was the last thing she wanted to do. But that seemed to be the inevitably, creeping up closer and closer each day.

She sighed, holding him tighter. Feeling his arms wrap around her she let herself fall asleep, in the embrace of a man she knew she would always be too terrified to admit she was falling for.

\--

Naz awoke in her hotel to the usual sounds of New York. Perpetual sirens. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she pulled out her phone, checking to see if there was any update from Todd about the immigration interviews.

She knew it would take a least a month to get the results, and that if they took their time it didn't necessarily mean that she was caught.

There was a knock at her door. Naz see down her mug on the dresser and walked over.

Opening the door, she was greeted by a delivery person.

“Nazanin Dubey?” They asked.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

They pulled out at least a dozen red roses in a rose gold vase. “These are for you. Just need you to sign here.”

She was speechless. Signing quickly, before thanking the delivery person, Naz brought the vase to her perch at the dresser.

There was a note sticking out of the vase.

_Sleeping isn’t as fun without your snoring_.

_I'm sorry if I sprung everything on you so fast. I miss you. A lot. xxxxxxxx C._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments make me happy and help me write faster :) let me know what you thought of the chapter!!!! as always thank u so so so so much for reading and i hope u enjoyed <3


	21. the one with dodger-gate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because chris has a big mouth and naz forgets she has other friends

_You have been cordially invited to celebrate the union of_

_Meenal Rao & _

_Maxwell Johnson_

_on the 17th of May_

_at 2:30PM_

 

_THE PLAZA HOTEL_

_768 5th Ave, New York, New York_

 

_Reception to follow_

\--

 

“Meenal’s invitations came in.”

“Yeah, Kira sent me a picture, they're surprisingly not garbage-looking.”

Chris laughed on the other side of the phone. “No, you're quite right. I expected something that reflected your ethereal bridesmaid dress.”

“Fuck off.” Naz laughed. “I can't believe she's really doing The Plaza.” Naz said, sitting down at the desk in her hotel room. It had been a couple days in New York so far and her schedule was light. Consequently, she hung out in her hotel room writing. Ideas had been pouring into her head and she needed to get them down in front of her.

She had been writing a lot recently, going so far as printing out a draft of a screenplay idea to edit manually. It was silly, she didn’t usually take her writing seriously, not since she took her HR job with Marvel years ago. Except she couldn’t help but feel a new energy to write and keep writing. She berated herself for forgetting her screenplay on the coffee table in her living room. She could’ve been editing it right now, analyzing the edits scribbled onto it in red ink. Instead she stared at the half assed work she had spilled onto her laptop.

“About that.” Chris said, pulling Naz out of her thoughts. “Max texted me asking about rooming arrangements. Did you plan on rooming with Meenal?”

Naz barked a laugh. “Room with Meenal before her wedding so she can bite my head off? Fuck no.”

“So, I take it I can tell Max to put us up in a room together?”

The line went silent for a second. The wedding wasn’t for months. And to be frank, Naz didn’t like the idea. But she felt guilty for flaking on Chris’s mother, and ditching him with a half-assed answer about the future before she flew across the country for a week.

“Naz?” Chris asked. “You there?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, totally.” She paused again. “Course.”

“Alright, I'll let him know.”

“You okay with my snoring?” She teased, trying to change the subject from her hesitation.

“I’ve been sleeping with you long enough to know wax earplugs are a godsend.”

Naz smiled. She sighed into the phone audibly.

“What's wrong?” Chris asked.

“Nothing. Just working.”

“Sorry, baby. Hey, at least filming’s almost done, right? Three more weeks and we’re out of the fray.”

“Yeah, yeah, you're right.” She said, “But its not really that. Not Marvel.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m writing.”

“Oh wow!”

“Yeah.”

“Your rom-com?” He asked.

Naz laughed. “Well, I’m trying. I got some inspiration recently so I’ve found myself just word-vomiting all over the page.”

“Sweetheart that’s great, can I ask what you’re writing?”

“You can ask but I won’t necessarily tell.” Naz smirked.

“Alright, alright,” Chris chuckled.

“But I have a bit of writer's block and I left the screenplay I finished at home so I can’t even see where my thought process was headed.”

“That sucks, sorry baby. You wanna talk it through? I like unmapping shit when I’m in a creative rut.” He said.

“No, thank you, though.” Naz said “You’ll judge.”

Chris laughed. “What!? No fucking way. Tell me.”

“It’s just some stupid shit. I’ll tell you in person”

“You’re gonna tell me you’re whole life story in person at this point.”

Naz let out a half laugh. “Sorry, about that.” She lowered her head, smiling. “I got your flowers.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. They were gorgeous. I can't stop staring at them. But you shouldn't have.”

“I'll get my girlfriend flowers whenever the fuck I want.”

“So I’m your girlfriend.”

“And I’m your boyfriend. Its conclusive. Besides, you should be thrilled, I hear I’m a catch.”

“Shut up, you fuckin’ dork.” She said, reluctantly, “Fine. If you’re now my definitive boyfriend motivate me to finish writing this shit even though it sounds like shit.”

“Naz.” He said, seriously. “I don’t believe it sounds like shit at all. Stop underestimating yourself.”

Naz groaned. “I’m so bored. I can’t write, I have to wait a couple hours until the casting director is free to finish up work stuff and immigration still hasn’t let me know about the result of the interviews.”

“That’ll take a while though, won’t it? Immigration”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You’ll be fine, darling, I promise. I’ll be here for you through it. We did good, Callaghan didn’t see what hit him.”

“Thanks, baby.” Naz smiled, feeling a bit of relief.

He paused. “On another note, you want me to come over there and give you something to be motivated about?” There was a mischievous tone in his voice and Naz caught it.

“I’d love you too, but I think a transnational booty-call would just be a distraction. And I'm home in like four days.”

“You sound like you need distracting,” He said. “Maybe multiple distractions. I'm thinking we aim to break a record.”

“On distractions?”

“Distractions, orgasms, same difference.”

Naz smirked. “Where are you right now?”

“Conference room. I have a meeting in about an hour for Lobby Hero prep. I came early.”

“Are you alone?”

“Would be asking you about orgasms if I wasn't?”

“Who knows.” Naz said. “Maybe you're into choking and voyeurism.”

He chuckled, sheepishly, and she was positive he was pinking up in the cheeks. “Shut up. You wanna have some fun, Naz?” He said. “Is that why you're asking if I’m alone? A little phone sex?”

“I dunno.” Naz said, setting down her pen. She leaned back in her seat, spreading her legs apart. “Maybe. If you say the right things.”

“You miss me.” He said, in a triumphant tone of voice.

Naz groaned, shutting her legs. “Wrong.”

His laughter echoed through the phone.

“Tell me about Lobby Hero.” Naz said. “Is this the Broadway play you mentioned last week?”

“Yes, I just got the final readjusted script. I play Bill.”

“Gonna need some backstory, sweetheart.”

“Right, right.” Chris chuckled. “Sorry, I’m in a weird headspace right now. It's about moral dilemmas and social issues. So it's two cops and two security guards dealing with issues of sexual harassment, police accountability, racial injustice in the criminal justice system and a bunch of other things.”

“Wow. That's heavy. And sounds really fucking good.”

“Right? The roles kind of perfect.”

“Tell me.”

“He's this cop with an ego and a reputation to maintain, and he's trying to keep climbing in the force but he abuses his power and threatens his rookie female partner.”

“So the epitome of toxic masculinity?”

“Exactly. He just exists in this realm where he’s always revered and respected and so he manipulates that and Dawn, his partner, to do his bidding.”

“Sounds like a really demanding role. But also this is exactly what you wanted, wasn't it? To just get into a dark character and exercise some different muscles?”

“It's a long way from Cap, that's for sure.”

“How long is it?”

“Ten weeks.”

“Jesus. You feel you can handle being in such a dark headspace for so long?”

“Yeah, definitely. It'll be a challenge, that's for sure. But I have so many fuckin’ ideas I'm just ready to dive in and give it my all.”

Naz smiled. He sounded so excited, she could practically hear him bouncing off the walls. “You'll do remarkably, I’m sure of it. I'm really excited for you, baby.”

“Thanks, darling.” He said. “Hey, what am I hearing in the background?” Chris asked. “Is that the--”

“ _Tarzan_ soundtrack? Yes.”

“You’re listening to the _Tarzan_ soundtrack for shits.”

“For shits and motivation, yes.”

“You planned on phone sex with Disney music in the background.” Chris said, laughing.

“I _would've_ paused it.”

“I think _The Little Mermaid_ soundtrack is far superior.”

Naz smirked. “Oh, that’s no competition. _Little Mermaid_ is fucking iconic. But _You’ll Be In My Heart_ make me cry like a fucking baby.”

 _“You’ll be in my heeeeeaaart… no matter what they say! You’ll be here in my heart, alwayyyyys.”_ Chris sang, obnoxiously into the phone.

Naz giggled. “Aren’t you at work?”

“So? Disney is suitable for work. I’ve done worse. Broken penis.”

Naz snorted. “You’re terrible.”

“Favourite Disney movie. Go.”

“ _Hercules_.” Naz said immediately. “Was that supposed to be hard?”

“Okay! Okay, I’ll fuckin’ take it.”

“What? Did you not see that coming?”

“Honestly, no, but I’m obsessed with the fact it is.”

“I know about your huge crush on Megara, Chris.” Naz teased.

“God, I just love women who bust my chops a little, okay?”

Naz shook her head, laughing softly, “I’m going to listen to _Zero to Hero_ right now.”

“I love _Hercules,_ but the soundtrack? You really think its the best?”

“Its fucking iconic. Takes both _Tarzan_ and _The Little Mermaid._ ”

“No way!” Chris said, incredulously, “Fuck no. _Aladdin_ , I’ll take it, but nothing else.”

“Not even _Beauty and the Beast_?”

“Not revolutionary enough.”

“There is no way _Tale As Old As Time_ isn’t revolutionary. _Belle?_ _Belle’s reprise?_ _Something There? Gaston!?_ ” Naz paused, taking in a deep breath, before singing, “ _Gawsh it disturbs me to see you Gaston, lookin’ so down in the dumps!”_

 _“Every guy here’d love to be you Gaston, even when taking your lumps--”_ Chris continued, smile evident through his voice.

“Plot twist, your character in Lobby Hero is really just you reenacting Gaston. Role play kink is coming back.”

Chris’s laughter echoed through the phone. “God, I love you.”

Naz felt her heart stop.

Everything froze. There was silence. Utter and complete silence that infiltrated the air around her and took the breath out of her lungs. Her hand, quivering above her keyboard, her breath speeding up, eyes wide open. She opened her mouth to respond. To say something, anything, to end the deadly silence that enveloped the two of them.

“Dodger.” Chris said, breaking the silence.

Naz inhaled, trying to steady her voice. “W-What?”

“Dodger, I was talking to _Dodger_.”

“Aren't you at work?”

“ _Thinking_ about Dodger.” His voice was frantic. “He did the silliest thing this morning, he woke up on my pillow, it was pretty fuckin’ precious--”

“Chris--”

“Dodger.” He cut her off, voice stern. “I was thinking about Dodger. We don't have to talk about it more than I was thinking about Dodger.”

Naz could feel a lump forming in her throat. But this was her out. This was him, voice trembling, trying to salvage this. Trying to stop her from running.

She knew. She knew this. She knew she needed this and she knew he was desperate she take it.

“I should go.” He said, quickly. “Meeting’s about to start.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Okay.”

“Chris?”

He sighed. “Yes?”

Naz swallowed. She shook her head. She would take the out. “Nothing. Tell Dodge I say hi.”

“’Course.”

“Alright. Bye.”

She ended the call. Setting the phone down on her desk, Naz leaned back in her seat and ran her fingers through her hair.

God, why did he say that? Why did he have to box her into this stupid position?

But he didn't mean it. She knew that. He was just missing her. Tired. Not thinking. Anything to explain the blurting out of the very words she dreaded to hear.

He tried to salvage the moment and she was grateful. Grateful that he knew she wasn't ready, grateful that he was willing to make himself seem like a fucking idiot to make her feel more comfortable.

But he had said it.

And a part of her wished he didn't retract it so fast.

\--

Later that day Naz texted Meenal, curious if she was in town. Considering she was throwing her wedding here in less than six months, Naz was correct. They decided to go for coffee, but taking one look at Meenal, Naz regretted the decision. She wanted to vent to someone that wasn’t Kira about the conversation that had just transpired with Chris, but that meant she had some serious explaining to do to Meenal.

“Did you fall off the face of the earth?” Meenal interrogated the minute Naz set down her purse on the seat across from her.

“Sorry,” Naz diverted her eyes, avoiding Meenal’s glaring.

“Seriously, Nazanin.”

“Oof, full name, you really mean business.”

Meenal shook her head. “I'm freaking out here. The wedding is coming up so fast and Max’s mother decided she wants calla lilies and not chrysanthemums.”

Naz blinked.

Meenal sighed. “Okay, so it's not exactly the most pressing problem, but that's besides the fucking point. What happened to you?” She looked pissed, rightfully. “We chat on obligatory bridal concerns and then you don't return my calls for weeks.”

“I'm sorry,” Naz said again, running a hand through her hair. “It's been really hectic on my end.”

“More hectic than trying to plan two weddings at once with my mother?” Meenal challenged.

Naz scoffed, sipping her coffee. “Man, I do love a wild Geetha aunty.”

“Stop smiling smugly and spill. I know you've been fucking Chris.” Meenal said it as though she had just caught Naz with her hand in the cookie jar.

“Yeah, Meens, the whole fucking world knows.” Tabloids had a field day every time Chris and Naz stepped out together. They had been caught in a paparazzi storm leaving In & Out just last week.

“Whatever. I'm of one your closest friends. You can't just fall off the face of the earth and onto someone's dick--someone I set you up with, thank you--and not tell me.”

Naz downed the last of her coffee. “Yes Meenal. My life has unfortunately been more hectic than your wedding.”

“What happened?”

“I almost got deported.”

“What the fuck!? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because I didn't.”

“Funny. Explain.”

“Chris and I, we sort of… Got married.”

“You’re fucking joking.”

“Unfortunately, I am not.”

“Do you plan on elaborating?”

Naz sighed. Setting her coffee down she went into the explanation of how that night in Vegas Chris and her had got married. And then explaining the entire immigration ordeal. Meenal gasped in all the right places and made the correct faces of disbelief in others. When Naz finished Meenal looked like she had just seen a ghost.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a lot.”

“Tell me about it.”

“So is that it?” She said, after processing it. “Are you two just fucking? And he’s cool with that? Being your hubby on paper and not in reality?”

“That’s what I thought at first, because that could’ve worked, friends and fucking.” Naz shook her head. “But no. We’re straight up dating…”

“How long has it been?”

“A month and a bit, now.”

“And? You still not fucking with actors or has he changed your mind?”

Naz took a deep breath. “I couldn't tell you. He wanted me to meet his mother last week.”

“Already?” Meenal’s eyes widened.

“That’s what I said. It feels like I’m trying to fight this urge to run as far away from him as physically possible and then he goes and tells me he wants me to meet his mother. Who the hell does that when you explicitly ask to slow things down?

“Max always said he was the commiting type.”

“And Meenal…” Naz ran a hand through her hair, frazzled. “Fuck, he did the stupidest thing today.”

“Nicole told me he saw Jenny recently. Did he fuck her or something?”

Naz’s eyebrows raised. She didn’t see that coming. “Huh?” He hadn't told her of any such meeting, and he was usually up front about that kind of thing. He had run into Minka at the grocery store and felt it relevant enough to mention. She made a face.

“What?” Meenal said. “He didn't tell you?”

“Tell me he fucked Jenny?” The thought of it made Naz’s stomach churn with jealousy. She had never been an envious person, but the idea of anyone else’s hands on what was _hers_ , she was seeing red.

“No,” Meenal waved off the comment like it was stupid to even ask, “He didn’t tell you he saw her?”

“Well, they're friends.” She masked the sinking feeling she felt in her gut with a broken laugh. “He doesn’t have to tell me about every friend he hangs out with.”

“Jenny’s not every friend. They’ve had a pretty high profile on-again-off-again.”

“Meenal.” Naz’s tone was stern. “You're sounding like Kira. I’m sure he has a legitimate reason for not telling me.”

“I'm just saying you're not wrong to want some space.”

Naz frowned. “Who said I wanted this much space?” She said, defensively. “I said slow down, not fuck your ex.”

“Your face and your decision to take this stunt in New York. You couldn’t use a fax machine?”

“My face, says I don’t want to meet his fucking mother, but I’m gonna take a pass on him fucking his ex.”  
“No, no.” Meenal rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“Don’t feel guilty for slowing things down. Christ, no one expected you two to tie the knot before anyone else.”

“It's not like that was legitimate or intentional.”

“Right, the whole Sandy B. Ryan Reynolds proposal situation went down instead.”

“God.” Naz threw her head back and groaned. “My life is a fucking joke.”

“You're fucking one of the hottest men on earth. I truly pity you. Really. Honestly.”

Naz bit her lip. She was still thinking about the possibility he slept with Jenny. The idea was burned into her brain. There wasn’t a possibility. He couldn’t have. “I don’t think he fucked her.” She said, her heart breaking at the idea. “He’s the one insisting we label it.”

It didn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t he tell her he saw Jenny? Was he so pissed after their fight about his mother and her reluctance for a future that he finally got fed up with her? It didn’t make any fucking sense at all.

But on some fucked up level it did. Did he blurt those stupid words out of guilt? The flowers, the fear for the future?

He told her he would always love Jenny. That, Naz knew.

“He said I love you.”

Meenal choked on her coffee. “What!? When was this?”

“Two hours ago.”

“Oh, then fuck the Jenny thing, it’s probably nothing.”

Naz shook her head. “It is though? Meenal, he took it back the second after.”

Meenal furrowed her brows “Took it back…? How, exactly?”

“He said he was thinking about Dodger.”

Meenal barked a laugh. “Let me get this straight. He blurts out that he loves you, over the phone, and says he was thinking about his dog to cover it up?”

“...Pretty much.”

“Why do you think he did it?”

“Guilt? He knows I’m freaked the fuck out about commitment.”

“Right, no thanks to Rosalie for fucking that up.” Meenal cursed. “She was a cunt, Naz. Just cause one person fucked you over you shouldn’t compromise your future relationships for that.”

“Don’t say that.” Naz berated. “Cunt. Call her something less inherently gendered.”

“Sorry.” Meenal scoffed. “She’s the devil incarnate. How’s that?”

“Significantly better.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Naz sighed. She stared at the coffee stain on the table. “I dunno. I suppose I’ll ignore it, as I always do.”

“You don’t think you should talk to Chris?”

“When have you known me to deal with my problems?” Naz smiled.

Meenal laughed, shaking her head. Looking up from her coffee she squinted behind Naz.

“What?” Naz said, curiously turning her head to see what had caught Meenal’s attention.

“That magazine.” Meenal said, her face suddenly going pale. Naz pushed herself out of her chair and walked to the counter, where a set of tabloids were placed on display.

Splayed across the front page was a picture of Naz and Rosalie, kissing in a photobooth at a wedding. The picture was years old, at least two now, and there was no way tabloids had got it without reaching out to someone Rosalie or Naz knew.

But what hurt Naz most was the headline, and the overlaid picture of Chris superimposed over a broken heart.

**_UH OH--_ **

**_IS CAPTAIN AMERICA’S GIRLFRIEND MORE OF A LADIES GAL?_ **

“God.” Meenal had appeared beside her, shaking her head. “And the devil incarnate reappears.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading my lovely babes!!!! its about to get Real interesting these upcoming chapters so hold on to your hearts. as always your comments really do keep me going <333 let me know what you think!!!!!!! i was super conflicted when i wanted to have chris say those words!!!


	22. the one after dodger-gate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i first conceptualized this story, i imagined this chapter. so its really emotional for me to actually get to this point and have it written out. for that reason, its a bit (a lot) longer, and deals with some heavier subjects like biphobia. 
> 
> with that being said, i really hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> also, smut warning! (are these even warnings? you're welcome lol)

The flight home felt long, more so than usual. Typically, she would sleep through the hours, except she was exhausted, and the aisle seat from JFK to LAX didn’t help. Naz hadn’t realized how much she had tossed and turned over the past week, struggling to sleep in the cold, empty sheets of her hotel room, until she tried to catch up on Zs on the plane.

She told herself it was the unfamiliarity. But she knew that wasn’t true. She had stayed at the same hotel in New York at least five times a year for five years. It was incredibly familiar.

What she had also become accustomed too in the past several weeks, however, was Chris. His warm body snuggled up against hers, his hands in her hair, under her shirt, sometimes innocent, sometimes not.

Part of her was nervous to see him, convinced he would say those stupid words again, and trap her in a place she dreaded to find herself in. But the other half of her was excited. She missed him. A lot. Even if she would never admit it.

Once the plane landed Naz turned her phone back on, receiving texts from both Kira and Chris. Kira had offered to pick her up from the airport, but apparently something had come up with Michael.

Kira and Michael were still together, though Naz stopped paying attention. He would drag himself through her apartment from time to time. The guest room had been effectively converted into Kira’s hideout. And while they may have said they had no plans to date, the amount of shit they did together, in public, told Naz otherwise. She really couldn’t care less, but being abandoned at the airport left her annoyed; albeit she was perpetually annoyed at Kira.

Reluctantly, Naz calculated how much a cab would be from the the airport to her apartment. Once she saw the ridiculous price, she texted Chris.

_To: Chris:_

_just landed. kira had something come up, if you’re not busy would you be down to make the terrible trek to LAX to pick up a tired heathen?_

She didn’t read it over before sending, which she immediately regretted. Quickly, she typed up:

_if you can’t it’s totally cool i can take a cab_

His response was instant.

**From: Chris:**

**Of course, I’ll be 20.**

**Missed you.**

—

Exiting the gates Naz saw Chris waiting for her next to the baggage claim. It never ceased to amaze her how beautiful he was.

He was leaned up against a pillar, hands in the pockets of his jeans. His hair, slicked back easily, jaw still clean shaven from the last remnants of filming. He wore a tight baseball tee, the neck of which fell slightly in an unbuttoned V, revealing his clavicle tattoo. She would’ve been lying if she said she didn’t have to take a deep breath to steady herself.

“Hi.” She said, a weak smile playing up on her face.

This was the first time she was seeing him, face to face, since he blurted those words.

He smiled wide, all teeth, before taking two strides forward and enveloping her in a hug. “Hi.” He said, pulling his head back to kiss her. It was soft, gentle and chaste, without any urgency.

He seemed to just miss _her_.

When he let go of her, he immediately went to grab her duffel bag, to which Naz protested.

“I got it.” She muttered with a frown, yet not making an effort to snatch it back.

Slinging the bag over his shoulder he shook his head. “I know you do.”

—

He asked her about her trip on the drive to her apartment, and she his play. He rested his hand on her thigh, squeezing it ever so often as if to say, hi, I’m here-- but there was the giant elephant in the room. Whenever his gaze lingered a little too long on her, at a red light, in the elevator, she changed the subject. She didn’t need another Dodger-gate.

“Where’s Fugue?” He said, entering her apartment and setting her duffel bag down.

“My friend Geneva takes care of him when I’m out of town.”

“Oh, you could’ve asked me.” He said.

Naz scoffed. “Dodger would eat him.”

Chris furrowed his brows. “No, he wouldn’t.” He looked mildly offended, before chuckling. “He doesn’t hurt a fly.”

“Okay, baby. Let’s introduce them first and we’ll see for next time.”

Chris sat down on her sofa, absently toying with one of her throw pillows while Naz stalked through her kitchen, searching for something to eat.

“Is this book any good?” He asked, lifting up one of the books Kira had left on Naz’s coffee table.

Naz said, craning her neck to see what he was holding up. “ _Angry White Men_?” Naz said.

“Yeah, I just read _The Mother of All Questions_ , curious to see what this book’s about. Looks around the same topic.”

“Haven’t read _Mother of All Questions_.” Naz said, returning to the living room with a nutella sandwich in hand. She sat across from Chris on the other side of the sofa. “What’s it about?”

“It’s a good overview and blend of key aspects in feminist revolutions, the gender binary, modern misogyny and fragile masculinity.”

“Sounds right up my alley.” Naz nodded, thoughtfully. “If you liked the discourse around misogyny and masculinity you’ll like _Angry White Men._ ”

“Yeah?” He turned the book over to read the back.

“Yeah, I'll be honest I was a little reluctant, considering it’s written by a white man himself.”

“Why’s that?”

Naz shrugged. “Most feminist scholarship I’ve read has been by women. I think to write on the experiences of misogyny and patriarchy it’s sort of qualifier for me. But if you consider he’s talking about entitlement, privilege and power, it was really good, considering his positionality. And he’s a sociologist and gender scholar so it’s not like he’s unqualified. Besides, I really enjoyed it.”

“Can I borrow it?” He asked. “It sounds really good and I’ve been reading a lot of shit about masculinity.”

“Of course you can. And what do you think?”

“Well, for starter’s it’s incredibly eye-opening, especially right now considering the political climate and all.”

Naz frowned. “Yep.” She didn’t need her reminding. If she hadn’t already felt unsafe, the immigration ordeal definitely didn’t help, and she was from fucking Canada. He reached out to her and rubbed her hand.

“It gets me thinking about my position in society and my privilege.” He said, honestly. “That I should be doing more.”

Naz smiled. “I’m glad. It’s refreshing to meet men like you. Gives me hope.” She paused, taking a bite out of her sandwich. “Just don’t remove the post it’s, I keep ’em in my favourite sections.”

“Not a problem.” He chuckled. Setting the book aside, he pulled out the large wad of papers, stapled together haphazardly, underneath the stack of novels. “What’s this?”

Naz’s eyes widened. She set her plate down and snatched it back.

“Woah, woah, easy there tiger.” He eyed he red ink. “Is that your screenplay?”

“Possibly.” Naz said.

“Can I read it?”

“No.”

Chris laughed. “Fine.” He eyed it one last time, before directing his gaze to her meal. “Are you seriously eating a nutella sandwich?” He said, forehead creasing.

“Yeah, I’m sort of out of food.”

“C’mon tiger.” He pulled her up from the sofa. “Let’s go get you some actual sustenance.”

—

It was almost eight when Chris dragged her out of the house to buy groceries. Naz insisted she first clean up her apartment, which Chris assisted her in. She spent the rest of the evening doing laundry, with Chris lounging on the sofa reading _Angry White Men_.

Or so Naz had thought he was reading _Angry White Men_. Notably, he didn't bring the screenplay up again at her apartment, so she figured the subject was over. Until he did, in the aisles of Walgreens.

“So. Your screenplay.” He said casually, reaching for the dog treats. Throwing them gently in the cart they kept walking, in an admittedly rather couple-y stance, Naz thought. His arm was slung around her waist and whenever she strayed away he would intertwine their fingers.

“Mhm.” Naz mumbled. She turned her back from him and pretended to be deeply inspecting the selection of shaving cream and razors on display. He came by her side and did the same, mimicking her. “What do you think about this one,” He said, pointing at the razor. “Since you seem so engrossed by it.”

She rolled her eyes.

“But I mean, I know _you_ love my beard, so I should probably just grow it out after filming? This would work better for cleaning up the edges.”

“Sure.” She said, absently.

“No one likes a neck beard.”

“Uh huh.”

“Tell me, does _Monica_ like a neck beard?”

Naz spun around, eyes wide and mouth gaping open. “You _read_ it.” She seethed.

“Only a few pages!” He threw his arms up in surrender. “And only because I wanted to have proof you’re fucking amazing at what you do.”

 _“Christopher.”_ She growled.

“It’s amazing, Naz. You’re witty, smart and the pace is phenomenal. You’re able to just capture this mood that’s both sexy and quirky and… Wow.”

“Shut up.” She groaned. She couldn’t believe him. But it was her fault for leaving it out so openly, knowing fully well Chris had been pestering her about her godforsaken writing for months. He was being stupid and intrusive and she had every right to seeth.

Instead, Chris shook his head sadly, settled on both razors and tucked them into the smaller compartment of the cart, before coming up to Naz’s face and cradling her cheek. Softly pressing his lips to hers he sighed.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “But I’m not lying when I tell you it’s really fucking good.” He stared at the tile. He swallowed. “Can I send it to my agent?”

“What!? No!”

“C’mon Naz. This is what you love. And you’re fucking good at it.”

She gave him another glare, part of her fit of petty annoyance, before marching off into the next aisle. “I’m not talking about this here.”

“Tell me why not.” He said, stubbornly.

“You’re a two-faced Gemini.”

Chris snorted. “That’s not a valid answer.”

“Yes it is. I told you I didn’t want you reading it and you fuckin’ read it.”

“Because you’re not seeing how much potential it has!”

“Right, because my boyfriend’s really going to tell me my writing is trash.” She muttered, staring him down.

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if it sucked.” He said, honestly.

“Funny.”

Chris groused. “Naz, come on. I’m telling you as someone whose read countless screenplays, yours has so much going for it.”

“You’re pushing your luck.” Naz glared. “I’m done talking about this.”

“Alright, alright,” After a sharp intake of breath he ran his fingers through his hair and spoke again. “I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

“We’ll see.”

It wasn’t that Naz was against the idea of sending her work to an agent. But she was in a groove. A groove where she wasn’t happy, but a groove that worked.

She was waiting on immigration, waiting on Meenal, waiting on absolutely everything and everyone, work was becoming the only constant she had.

She didn’t need any more disappointment. Not now. She was only writing because it seemed to be the only thing that brought calm into her hectic life. She didn’t need her only escape to turn into an obligation too.

Chris had been an escape. Until his perpetual need for commitment and stupid love declarations made even more of a mess.

They approached the feminine hygiene aisle now and Naz stretched up to reach the tampons, only to be defeated in height. He easily grabbed them and placed them in the cart, receiving another glare from Naz, again, before pulling her towards him and kissing her head.

“I’m serious about the screenplay.”

“I know you are.” She grumbled. “That’s what makes it so hard to be mad at you.”

“You're so cute, you know?”

“I know.”

They approached the cashier, putting all the groceries on the belt and tucking the basket under.

Naz looked up and let out an exaggerated sigh. She cursed. Front and centre was the tabloid with her and Rosalie on it. She shook her head. She was relieved both her and Chris wore ball caps, obscuring their faces.

“What the fuck?” Chris said, his face twisting in disgust. He snatched the tabloid up from the display and scanned it. “Did you know about this?” He said, angrily.

“Saw it in New York.” She said, plainly.

“And you didn’t bother telling me?” His tone was angry, and Naz didn’t understand why he was snapping at her. She cricked her neck, peering around them to ensure they weren’t surrounded. There was a couple a few aisles down and an old lady behind them.

Nevertheless, she lowered her voice. “Do you have a problem with my fucking of women?” She said, incredulously,

“What?” His eyes widened. “No! Why would you suggest that?”

“Because you’re acting like you’ve never seen a shitty tabloid.”

Chris furrowed his brows. “I’m asking why didn’t you tell me they had published this biphobic shit? We can pull it. Sue the fuck out of them. I’m calling Jen, fuck this.” He reached for his phone.

“Chris, stop.” She tugged at his arm. “You’re making a scene, and I don’t want to.”

“You don’t want to what?” He hissed, keeping up their guise.

“Deal with this.”

His brows furrowed. “With _me?”_

“No, with _this.”_ She gestured angrily at the display.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Can we just pay? Please?”

“Jesus.” He shook his head. “Whatever.”

—

The ride back to her apartment was quiet. A deadly silence crept up on them every time Naz opened her mouth to speak. Chris didn’t speak a word, his knuckles a perpetual white as he clenched the steering wheel. She realized she hadn’t seen angry before. Frustrated, yes, upset, confused, even disappointed. But never anger.

“Are you going to explain to me why you’re so mad?” Naz said dryly when the door was shut. If he was so pissed he could’ve just dropped her off and left.

“Oh, so you care about my opinion now?” He snapped. “You wanna listen, now?”

“You’re being childish.”

He scoffed. “Said the pot to the kettle.”

“Use your words, Chris.”

“Why can’t I be angry about this?”

“You can.” Naz said, easily. “But I don’t understand why you’re angry at _me_.”

“Why can’t we call them out? In this day and age? They can’t really think they can get away with something so blatantly homophobic.”

Naz shook her head. “It’s misinformation at best, mild at the worst.”

“So I can’t defend you?”

“I’d rather you not make a deal out of this.”

“Wow.” He scoffed.

“Why are you so mad?” Naz said, annoyed. “It’s not like it was _your_ ex they hunted down for a private picture.”

“Why can’t I be pissed off that you won’t even let me fucking defend you?”

“Defend me?” Naz was confused. “You think causing a rife with tabloid media is going to be a defense of me? It's going to cause a mess.”

“So what? We’ll deal with it. This is worth being angry over.”

Naz let out an exasperated sigh. “There is no _we_ here, Chris! _I’m_ going to deal with the aftermath of anything you say about this.”

“No we?” He said, offended. “The whole article was undermining our relationship.”

“Based on _my_ sexuality, not you.”

“So I can’t defend you and what I believe in, then? I’m standing up for what I believe is right, Naz. Why do I always feel like I’m taking two steps forward with us, trying to make this work and you won’t fucking let me?”

Naz was taken aback. “What? Because I don’t want the publicity of the whole fuckin’ stunt you’re gonna pull about _my_ sexuality? Because I won’t meet your mother? What’s this even about, Chris?”

“You’re not getting it. I’m trying to defend you because I want to. I’m trying to be here for you, and you won’t even talk to me.”

“I don’t need you to defend me.”

Chris shook his head. “You’re not even listening.”

Naz crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine.” She said. “Then go. Why are you even here?”

“No.”

“ _No?”_ She said, incredulously.

“No.” He replied, flatly. He seemed to have rooted himself in between her living room and her bedroom. “I’m not leaving. Because the minute I leave, you’re going to shut me out. And you’re an expert at that. So, I’m staying.”

He had a point and it irked her. She wanted him out of her house, his entire existence was giving her a migraine.

“And I have a dog, so it looks like he’s just going to cry alone tonight, because you’re being a fucking coward.”

She groaned. “You’re so fucking melodramatic.”

“At least I’m not emotionally inept.”

That one hurt.

“Fine.” Naz grit her teeth. “But I’m sleeping on the couch.” She said, with a huff.

Chris rolled his eyes. “Yeah, fuckin’ right.” He stalked after her into the bedroom. “It’s your apartment. I’ll take the couch.”

“No. Because you’re an old fucking man who complains about his _joints_ aching and his _sore_ _fucking muscles,_ ” She mimicked him and he opened his mouth to reply, but Naz cut him off. “And I don’t need you making yet another notch on the _‘Reasons Naz Sucks’_ board!”

With that, she snatched up a pillow from the bed and stomped out of the room.

She groaned when she slumped down on the sofa. Staring up at the ceiling she sighed. Of fucking course he was pissed. Tabloids got to him, no matter how much he said otherwise. Naz on the other hand, had seen worse, _experienced_ worse and been on the other side as well. But all of this? Everything that came out after this seemingly insignificant tabloid? Naz wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel.

She was angry, that much she knew. She could practically feel her blood pressure rise just thinking about the incessant chatter online about her and her sexuality. Her and her audacity. The audacity she had to be openly out, proud and bisexual. The audacity she had to be shameless.

The audacity she had to date a man like Chris.

She shoved her head in her pillow and yelled, muffling the sound.

He didn't get it. He didn’t understand that if he were to make a fuss about one tabloid, one comment, she would bear the brunt of the backlash.

She knew why he wanted to fight this. He cared. Not only about her, that she knew so deep in her heart it terrified the life out of her. But he cared in general, about her rights and the rights of those who didn’t conform.

Of course he cared. Scott was gay, for fuck’s sake. And he had told her how it broke his heart the day his mother told him Scott had come out to her, yet was afraid to come out to Chris.

He swore when he recounted the memory. He berated himself, for reasons Naz understood but ached to encourage he forgive himself for. He was young. Young and naive and lived in a world that had norms.

She felt for Scott. Felt for the fear he must’ve experienced, because she experienced it too. She knew how terrifying it was to come out. She had done it. And it got easier over time but it never got lighter. It never felt like nothing. It always felt like baring her soul and hoping she would stay safe and accepted.

It broke her heart when people she loved, people she had faith in, people she admired and cared for, dismissed her. Trivialized her.

It made her want to vomit when men told her it was a turn on.

It made her want to cry when friendships ended over opinions that demeaned the value of her life. Over actions that accepted or tolerated her erasure.

He was angry because he wanted to do more. He was angry because he felt she was pushing him away again. He was angry because he didn’t understand she didn’t have it in her to bear her soul to millions of fucking strangers.

So he didn’t get to be angry.

Not about this.

She got to be angry. She got to be so fucking mad she screamed off rooftops and started fucking riots.

He didn’t get to be angry.

Not at her. Not now.

This realization hit her hard. She was sure he was sleeping by now, but she didn’t care.

She pushed the afghan off of her and stormed back into the bedroom. Pausing in front of her bed, she crossed her arms over her chest and took a deep breath.

He was asleep. Or pretending to be. His eyes were closed and his head was turned away from her. He was shirtless, now, which wasn’t abnormal, he typically slept that way. She watched the way his chest rose and fell and debated turning around.

Shaking her head she took a few steps forward. Grasping the pillow she pulled it out from under his head.

Chris jolted awake, yelping loudly as he sat upright. He looked at her in the darkness, her faced illuminated only by the light streaming through the window.  

“You don’t get to be angry at me about this.” She said. Why was her voice quavering?

He furrowed his brows.

“ _You_ don’t get to be angry at me about this.” She said, again, this time with a strength in her voice. “And you don’t get to call me a coward.”  
“I’m not having another argument with you tonight, Nazanin. You wanna push me away, fine. You wanna act like I don’t care, or this doesn’t affect me, whatever.” His voice was tired.

Naz climbed onto the bed. “You’re the one who's not listening, now.”

Chris scoffed.

“No.” Naz said, voice softening. “Listen to me. This isn’t me pushing you away. This isn’t me being my stupid ass ‘ _I don’t know what we are and I don’t want to meet your mother.’_ ” She paused, taking another breath. “This is me being _angry_.”

He stayed silent. She had expected him to respond, argue, assert she had no right to be angry with him. But instead, he lifted the covers beside him.

Naz took that as an invitation to lay down. Pulling herself close to him she sighed.

It took her a minute to ease her breathing, to calm herself down into a state where she could coherently formulate sentences that matched her thoughts. Finally, she spoke.

“I’m angry that this is relevant.” She said. “I’m angry that a photo taken at a wedding of me and my then-partner is being used to ridicule me, you and every bisexual person on this fucking planet. I’m angry that if I had been making out with another man this wouldn’t even be a blip on a radar. I’m angry that I have to rehash a toxic relationship that physically and mentally exhausted me, through seeing my ex’s fuckin’ face in the cashier line at the Duane fuckin’ Reade.”

His arms tightened around her as she spoke but he stayed silent, staring at the ceiling.

“But, Chris. Most of all, I’m angry because I don’t want to deal with this anymore. I’m angry because I don’t have the energy to defend myself, defend my sexuality, my choices and my fucking life.” She paused again, trying to calm herself down, again. Chris was rubbing circles into her back.

“I appreciate what you want to do for me. I’m forever grateful that the man I’m laying with wants to fight for me and what’s right. But you don’t get to be angry with me about this. About me not wanting you to say anything. About me not wanting to talk about it. Because it’s my life Chris. And it’s too fucking exhausting. I don’t want even more nonsense. Not right now.”

He was silent still, for a full minute, before shaking his head and squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “I’m so sorry.” He said, hugging her tighter. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being naive and I’m sorry for not listening.” He dragged his nose up her cheek, kissing her hair now. “But please, Naz. Talk to me.” He sighed. “That’s all I ask. If you don’t want to talk about it, tell me. If you do, tell me. I just want to know how you’re feeling. I just want to know you. I admire your strength and your courage and I just want to fight for you.” Chris stopped her before Naz can cut him off. “Fight for you when you want me to. When it’s appropriate and you feel necessary. Anything you want.”

Naz turned her head. Breathing into his mouth she exhaled. “Right now, I just want you.”

Her hand snaked it way under the covers, reaching for him.

He cursed under his breath at the touch and shook his head. “We’re taking this slow.” He said, capturing her lips in a kiss.

Naz smiled.

Chris placed his hands on either side of her face, slowly dragging kisses down her jaw, neck and clavicle. The thin shirt she was wearing was discarded, and he trailed kisses further down, grazing his teeth over her exposed skin. Naz grasped the hair at the base of his neck eliciting a curse from Chris’s lips.

Despite his earlier insistence they take it slow, when she grasped at him through his pants, he doesn’t stop her. Instead, Chris pushed them down. Naz stripped off the last of her clothes, and straddled him further. His gaze dropped to her body, situated atop his lap and he let out another curse, shaking his head. He muttered something in her ear, an apology, a promise, all drowned out by a breathy moan. Kissing her again, he palmed between her legs, eager now that the foreplay had been effectively finished. Naz stroked him twice before aligning herself atop him. Without another word, she wrapped her arms around his bare chest and sunk down, feeling completely and utterly full. 

She couldn’t describe it, the way it felt to be so intimately connected to him. To feel his every breath and grunt against her. To know she was the reason he whimpered and sighed, moaned her name and uttered the filthiest things in her ear. She rode him slowly, taking her time and feeling every ridge of him inside her. 

But it was more than just the physical, this time. More than feeling his hands paw at her body, or the sweat bead off the grooves and valleys of his chest. It was every movement that sent a shockwave through her body, every kiss that lit a fire deep inside her core, and every word that encouraged her, appreciated her and valued her. His fingers bit into her hips, slowly grinding her down onto him. One particularly punctuated thrust up sent her over the edge, and he followed suit, shivering against her, staggered breaths in her ear.

His mouth was on hers, in an instant, kissing her with as much force as he could, continually thrusting to ride out both their orgasms. Her body quivered, feeling shocks of pleasure ripple through her. She felt his jaw slack when he finished completely, falling back into the covers. Naz stayed on top of him, his arms still wrapped around her body.

He looked at her, locking a deep gaze and he opened his mouth. Naz’s eyes widened. “Stop.” She said, pressing a finger up to his lips. “Please. Don’t say it.”

Dodger was nowhere in sight.

Chris frowned. “Why not?”

“Chris.”

“No.” He said, petulantly.

“ _Chris_.”

“Please?” His voice was breaking.

Naz couldn't bear to see him upset. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, kissing his palm.

He released a breath. It was long and drawn out and Naz wondered how long he was holding it in.

She felt terrible.

But she needed more time.

Chris swallowed, shaking his head he ran a hand through her hair. His expression was unreadable. He was upset, Naz knew that much. But nevertheless, he opened his mouth again.

“Goodnight, tiger.”

—

“Hi, Jackson! No, that’s too enthusiastic. Hello, Jackson. No. Hey there, Jax. No. Hiya, Jack.” Naz grumbled, rehearsing a spiel she needed to give her boss. She paced around her office, feeling like a fucking fool.

“Go with ‘hey, Jackson.’” A familiar voice said from behind her “It sounds neutral, relaxed.”

Naz turned around to see Chris standing in her doorway.

He left early in the morning after the events of the night prior, kissing Naz softly. He told her he needed to head home, shower and see Dodger, who was, in fact, being taken care of by Scott, before work. Naz nodded, sad to feel him strip himself away from her arms, but relieved he didn’t try hitting her with his stupid love declaration again.

“Hey, Chris.” She said.

“There we go. Say it like that.” He said, a smile stretching across his face.

Naz shook her head, laughing. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, just wanted to check in. Brought you coffee.”

She took the cup from him and his hand grazed her lower back. “Thanks.” She smiled.

“How you’re holding up? Final days of filming and all.”

“Fine so far, but the day’s barely started so I wouldn’t be surprised if I would like to disappear by four.”

He leaned up against her desk, sipping his own coffee. “What are you talking to Jackson about?”

“Bradshaw shit,” Naz said, irritated. “What’s new.”

Chris groaned. “Jesus. Good luck, sweetheart.” He checked his watch. “Sorry, I can’t stick around much longer, I’ve got to head to make up.” Getting up he reached for her hand. “Tell me how it goes, okay?”

He kissed her softly, before he was out the door.

\--

It was nearly one when Naz heard arguing from the hallway. She had finished at least fifty pages of filing and hadn’t even made a dent in her stack, so the incessant disagreement coming from the hall disrupted her focus. Her meeting with Jackson was in an hour, and she didn’t need to be behind.

Peeking her head out of her office, fully intent on telling whoever was yelling to shut the fuck up, she was surprised to see Chris near the coffee cart, with Mackie to his side. Kyle Bradshaw was standing in front of Chris.

It was Mackie who Naz had heard from her office.

“Man, shut the hell up,” Mackie said. “Why are you always riling people up like a fuckin’ child?”

“Oh? Looks like I hit a nerve, eh, Chris?” Kyle said, ignoring Mackie.

“I’m not kidding,” Naz heard Mackie say, “leave it.”

Kyle laughed, “Listen, I’m not the one getting defensive.” He directed his body towards Chris and said something else, but the bustle from the set change drowned out his comment.

“Fuck off, Bradshaw.” Mackie snapped.

Chris scoffed, eyes widening and brows shooting up.

What happened next, Naz definitely did not see coming.

With a shake of his head, laughing, Chris drew his fist back and punched Kyle Bradshaw in the face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING LOVES!  
> As always, your comments keep me going and i'm super curious to know how you felt about this chapter!!!!


	23. the one with the frozen peas II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had planned to have this chapter longer, but ive deprived you guys of an update for long enough -- so here she is.  
> this is one of two parts, this chapter beginning in Chris's perspective. 
> 
> again, tw: slurs, dealing w the continuation of heavy subject matter from the previous chapters. i was incredibly cognizant of the usage in this chapter and took into deep consideration my own personal positionality and did not use the subject matter lightly.
> 
> i hope you enjoy reading it because holy shit. this chapter took me a hot minute and i am so sorry
> 
> without further adieu,,,,, lets go

_**PART ONE: CHRIS** _

Being scolded like a child wasn’t exactly Chris’s preference, being the 36 year old man he was. But the trip to Naz’s office felt eerily similar to the time he was sent to the principal’s office for tricking his classmates in the first grade. He told them if they paid him--50 whole cents--he would be able to get his “astronaut” dad to fly them to the moon. What most of his classmates didn’t know, however, was that Robert Evans was not, in fact, an astronaut. Unfortunately for Chris, Kyle Wheeler, a lanky little kid who punted dodgeballs too hard, knew this. He had ratted Chris out to their teacher and stunted Chris’s exceptional business model. Chris had been able to effectively rob his classmates of at least twenty bucks, which at the time was a fortune for him. Regardless, his mother scolded him, despite his ingenuity, and confiscated every penny. Chris knew from that day onwards to never to fuck with anyone named Kyle. 

So apparently, two things hadn’t changed. He felt damn proud then, and felt damn proud now, and still fucking hated men named Kyle.  

Clutching his throbbing right hand, he peered into Naz’s office. He was surprised to see she wasn’t inside. Instead, it was Jackson, Naz’s boss, standing behind Naz’s messy desk. 

Seeing the desk cluttered, he stopped short of the door, an inappropriate thought flitted across his mind and he felt his face heat up. Chris wondered if Jackson knew what he and Naz had done on that exact desk less than a few weeks ago. He shoved the thought away, praying the blush on his face faded fast. 

Jackson looked up from his paperwork when he heard Chris enter. “Chris,” He said. “Sit.” He gestured at the seat across from the desk. 

Chris nodded, making his way over and pulling out the chair across from Jackson with his good hand. Jackson’s eyes continued scanning whatever page he was holding. 

From what Chris knew, Jackson was fair. He didn’t have any particular flaws about him that Chris was aware of. Naz always spoke quite openly of her co-workers and didn’t seem to have any problem with Jackson. Chris eyed him for a long minute as they sat in silence, trying to figure him out, with nothing but the rustling of papers echoing through the office. 

He noticed Jackson’s brows furrowed, and he had a perpetual expression of disdain on his face, very much like Naz. Chris wondered whether that was a symptom or qualifier for working in H.R. 

He cleared his throat. “Could I… Uh.” He lifted his right hand, the one he so graciously pummeled Kyle’s face in with, “get some ice or something?” He knew he had a cut on his lip, too, from where Kyle had swung back at him, and it had been bleeding. He licked it, tasting rust and winced. 

Jackson looked up from his papers. “Oh, yes of course.” He pulled out his phone and typed something up, before setting it back on the desk. “Naz’ll bring it.”

“She’s coming then, huh?” Chris asked. He couldn’t help but feel nerves creep up on him. He knew she was going to be pissed. Probably fucking livid. 

But, right now, he didn’t really care.

“Yes.” Jackson eyed him. “Is that a problem?” 

“No, no.” Chris said, quickly. “I just figured you would get my statement. Considering… Mine and her…” He searched his brain for the word and settled with, “situation.” 

“I am.” Jackson said. “She asked if she could sit in. I said I could allow it considering the circumstances. She was just with Kyle.”

Even hearing his name, made Chris’s blood boil. “Why is she with Kyle?” He growled. 

“To get his statement.” 

“He’s probably lying.” 

“Well,” Jackson closed the folder he was inspecting. Pulling out the familiar recording device, he set it on the desk. He turned his phone over, checking the time. “She’s late.” He said, annoyance clear in his voice. “I’m going to get started without her, then, if you don’t mind.”

Chris swallowed. “I’d like to wait for Naz, actually.”

Jackson frowned. “That was rhetorical.” He said, frankly. “We’re starting. She can join us later.”

He turned on the recording device, before pulling out a pen and paper. “State your name for the record--”

“Christopher Robert Evans. I know the drill.”

It was intriguing for Chris, to be nearly in the exact position he was a mere few months ago, but with a stark difference in how he felt. 

When he clutched the frozen peas to his groin after Jeanine Kingsley so elegantly snapped his penis in half, he was red, embarrassed and anxiety ridden. Not to mention, thoroughly horrified by the fact the woman he’d been crushing on for months now had a first impression of him where he was not only a whore, but a rebellious, kinky and emasculated whore. 

Right now, however, he sat, tall and proud, chin jutted out, on the chair across from Naz’s desk, just as he had done sheepishly, not so long ago. 

Jackson pursed her lips. “Chris,” He said, lifting the recording device up. “Can you explain to me why you’re here today?”

“Because I decked Kyle Bradshaw in the face.” He said.

Jackson looked unnerved. He cocked an eyebrow, expecting elaboration, but Chris merely gave him a curt nod.

Apparently Chris’s arrogant dispossession seemed to conflict Jackson, who appeared to be searching for remorse. He wasn’t about to find it, Chris knew that much. Chris was damn proud and didn’t regret his actions, and wasn’t about to act like he did. Not one fucking bit. 

Jackson didn’t seem too amused. He scribbled something down, the perpetual frown on his face staying put. 

There was a sharp knock that pulled Jackson’s attention away from looking at Chris with displeasure, to furrowing his brows at the door. 

He went to get up, but the knock was shortly followed by a bustling entrance. 

Chris didn’t even have to look up to know it was Naz. She never did have much ability to make herself blend in, nor did she care too much to do so, especially at work. It was one of the many things Chris found extremely endearing, her clackity heels and obnoxious arrivals. 

She was out of breath, blood flushing her usual warm, brown, complexion with a tinge of pink.  He would never get tired of the feeling in his stomach when he saw her. The way his breath would stop short. The way his heart would race. She had this air about her that made the world stop. 

Or maybe just his. He groaned internally at the thought. How did she have such a hold on him?

He dropped his head, shaking it lightly, muffling a chuckle. 

“Hey, sorry.” She said, closing the door. “Don’t mind me.” She leaned up against the wall behind Jackson. Her face was unreadable. Chris knew that meant she wasn’t exactly pleased. Her mind must’ve been racing.

“It’s fine.” Jackson said. “We were just getting started.”

“Cool, cool. Continue.” 

“So, Chris you were saying.”

“I decked Bradshaw in the face.” Chris said, again, this time his eyes gazing up at Naz. She made eye contact with him and grimaced. 

“An altercation that led to the fractured nose and jaw of Mr. Bradshaw?” Jackson asked, raising a brow. 

“If I did my job right, yeah.” Chris said, without thinking. 

Naz took a sharp breath. “ _ Chris _ .” She hissed. 

“What?” He looked at her incredulously. “I don’t regret it.” Truthfully, he hadn’t known he broke Kyle’s nose, but wasn’t mad at this new information either. He put his weight behind his fist for a reason. 

“Why?” Naz asked. Jackson looked back at her again, aiming to interrupt but Chris beat him to it. 

“Why don’t I regret it?” 

“Sure, that, but why did you punch him?” Naz pressed further. 

Jackson turned his whole body to Naz and gave her a glare. “Can I talk to you outside?” He said, irritated. 

Naz shrugged. With another silent stare from Jackson, she sighed and followed him out the door, leaving Chris alone. 

Chris groaned. He wasn’t a violent guy. Not at all. When he was younger, stupider, and had a couple drinks, sure, but everyone was a little high strung then. But Kyle fucking Bradshaw. The nerve of him. Everything he said, everything he stood for made Chris’ so angry he could knock his teeth out. And he tried. 

The fucking audacity. 

He fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair. His hand was still throbbing and no one had cared to let  _ him _ go to the hospital like fucking Kyle. He licked his lip, tasting blood again. Fuck. 

Chris leaned back, staring at the ceiling in silence. He could hear Jackson and Naz outside, they weren’t exactly whispering. Chris shifted his chair. The door was left ajar, and Chris leaned over to his right. He realized quickly, if he positioned his head just right, he could see them through the open door. He saw Jackson stand beside Naz, his arms crossed. Naz was significantly shorter, so she flitted in and out of Chris’s view.

“You can’t be in there if you’re going to ask questions.” Jackson said.

“Look, Jack, you know me.” Naz’s spoke in a hushed voice. Chris assumed she was gnawing at her bottom lip like she did when she was nervous. “You know I’m damn good at my job and the fact he’s my husband doesn’t change that.”

Chris felt a twinge when she called him her husband. 

He needed to get that in fucking check. 

Jackson gave Naz an exasperated look, and Naz inhaled. 

“I got it from here.” She said. “I promise I’ll do it properly.” 

Jackson raised a brow. He looked like he was going to argue, but Naz gave him a pleading stare.

After a moment, he nodded, silently. “I want this recorded.” He said, “I expect this done by the book.”

“Of course.” 

There were a few more words exchanged, before Chris saw Jackson turn and leave. So it was just going to be the two of them now. Instead of returning, however, Chris heard her heels click away. 

Five minutes later she re-entered the room shut the door. Once it was locked behind her she turned around and frowned. Chris’s gaze dropped to something she was holding something in her hands. 

A bag of frozen peas was clutched tight in her grasp, beads of condensation dripping off onto the floor. She crossed over to him and leaned back against the desk. 

“Here.” She said, passing him the frozen peas. He caught them with his left hand, pressing it gingerly to his right knuckles. 

They were bright red and bruised now, and he knew his lip was probably a sight as well. 

Naz’s unreadable expression from earlier had disappeared. She looked… pained. A vague sadness creased the skin of her forehead and her stance was tense. She reached out a hand and touched Chris’s cheek. Chris shivered, feeling her cold fingers from the frozen bag against his skin, but he sighed against her fingertips, as they lightly traced up his cheekbone, down to his lips.

They felt  _ good _ . 

_ She _ felt good. 

“What the fuck did you do?” She sighed, dropping her hand and receiving a protesting sound from Chris. 

“Don’t you have to turn on the recording device?” Chris said, absently, cursing at the frozen bag against his skin. 

Naz looked up, cocking her head. “Not particularly, no.” 

“But you told Jackson—”

“Forget Jackson.” Naz said, waving him off. “Tell me what happened.” 

Chris dropped his head, cursing. How could he? After the argument they’d had just last night?

“Is this your good-cop bad-cop routine? It’s not going to work. I know you’re angry with me.” 

“I am.” 

“So why waste time?” He tried to search her face for some sort of explanation. 

She blinked, looking away. “I figured I’d give you the benefit of the doubt. Before I rip your head off for what I think happened.”

Chris scoffed. “Just turn on the machine.” He didn’t need to draw this out. 

“I thought you wanted me to talk to you.” She said, staring him down. “This is me, talking, Chris. Tell me what happened.”

There was a pregnant pause. “He deserved it.” Chris said, finally. 

“Kyle?”

“Yeah.” He tilted his chin up and straightened his shoulders. “He fucking deserved it.” He said again, but with more conviction in his voice. “And worse.” God he wished he had done worse.

Naz pinched the bridge of her nose with her forefinger and thumb. “He told me you started it. That he was just making small talk when you lashed out and punched him.”

Chris barked a laugh. “’Course he said that. ’Course he fucking would.” 

“Are you gonna tell me what really happened, then?” She asked again. “Or do I take the word of that prick?” 

Chris shook his head. “He came up to me and Mackie at the coffee cart. We were talking about our fantasy football shit. Bradshaw chimes in something irrelevant. I ignored him because I know he’s a dick and was probably just riling me up cause you had your meeting with Jackson about him.” 

“Why did you punch him, then?” Naz said.

“I told him to shut the fuck up,  _ first.” _ Chris explained. “I tried to deescalate the situation, but he was egging me an Mackie on.” 

“So you resorted to violence?” 

Chris scoffed. “Really?” He said, incredulously. “We’re gonna act like Bradshaw doesn’t deserve to be punched in the face? C’mon, Naz, the damn recording isn’t even on.”

Naz shook her head. “I told you to stay out of it.” She groaned. 

Chris rolled his eyes. “This can’t be about paperwork.”

“No, it’s not about paperwork. It’s about your job. Why did you punch him?”

“Cause he deserved it.” Chris repeated.

“That doesn’t look so good on a termination paper, does it?” 

There was no way he was getting fired for this. Chris was an idiot, but he calculated the risk in that split second. He was worth more to Marvel than Bradshaw would ever be. Besides, he had less than a week of filming and his contract was up. How much could they really punish him? “They’re not going to fire me.” He said, easily. 

“So you punched him.” She said. “Because you have job security, you’re a child and apparently have random violent outbursts. Good to know.” 

Chris let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“Then explain it to me. What compelled you to ignore every rational thought in your head and punch your coworker in the face?”

“He said shit he shouldn’t have.”

Naz groaned. “Can you just tell me what he said before I have a fucking stroke?”

“He was a dick to you.” Chris’s heart was racing. How the fuck did he tell her this? 

“He was a dick to me.” Naz repeated back, blandly.

“Yeah. He said some fucked up shit.” 

“So you punched him to mark your territory. Show him who’s boss.” Chris could hear her put on a patronizing tone, an active attempt to provoke him. She raised her eyebrows and challenged him to respond. 

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” 

“No, really, I’m curious Chris, because apparently the whole conversation we had yesterday went out the fucking window. I don’t need you to defend me, I don’t want you to defend me—”

“I wasn’t being flippant, for the love of God--” 

“Then what was it about!” 

“He called you a slur! Okay!?” He lowered his voice, practically spitting it out. “He called you a fucking slur so I broke his fucking face.”

This caught her off guard. He hadn’t meant to yell it, God, he couldn’t even fucking believe he had to be telling her this. But that was why. 

Kyle Bradshaw was many things, and he deserved every ounce of pain and more Chris instilled in him. He had called Naz a fucking slur and he wasn’t about to get away with it scot-free. 

Naz blinked. “Okay,” She said. “What did he say?” 

“I’m not repeating it.” He said, adamantly.

Her expression remained unreadable he couldn’t figure out how.  “Did he call me a paki?” She said slowly.

“What?” He furrowed his brows. “No… no. Not that.” Course. More than one fucking slur could’ve been used. This realization made him want to vomit.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath.

“It had… It had to do with the tabloid.”

“Oh.  _ Oh. _ ” 

Her expression shifted for a split second. She knew. 

Chris couldn’t muster any words. He just looked up at her from his seat and blinked.

“He called me a dyke.” She said, like she was talking about the fucking weather. 

Chris took in a sharp breath. 

What happened next, he didn’t see coming. All of a sudden, Naz barked a laugh. She shook her head, grinning at this revelation. Chris made a face.

“Why are you laughing?” He asked.

“If I punched everyone who called me a dyke—” She continued laughing and Chris let out an exasperated breath.

“Don’t patronize me, Naz.” 

She shook her head, her laughter stopping short. “No, no. I’m not.” She took a deep breath, slowing her breathing down. “You’re an idiot.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re an idiot.” She repeated. 

“No, I heard you, I just wanted to know if I’m really dating an asshole.” 

“I’m not an asshole for telling you the truth, Chris.” She said, plainly. “Did you expect me to cry? Did you want a celebration, or better yet, a thank you?” 

“No.” He said, irate. “I expected you to understand why I punched him.” 

“I don’t.” 

He laughed; the sound that came out of his mouth was hollow and without mirth. “Right.” 

“You can’t just go around punching people when you feel like it.” 

“Yeah, cause defending my girlfriend against a biphobic asshole is just me feelin’ a little extra violent today. Show off some toxic masculinity for shits.” 

“I told you I didn’t want you defending me. I told you _ I’m _ the one who’s gonna bear the brunt of the backlash--”

He ran his free hand over his face, exhausted. “You’re not seriously comparing the tabloid shit to this?” 

“Is it any different?” She challenged. 

“Hell yeah its fucking different.” He said, defensively. “I get why you didn’t want to go after the tabloid. But this was a problem where I could fucking see the perpetrator. I wasn’t going to do nothing!”

“I asked you to do nothing. Specifically.” 

“Then I can’t.” He said, truthfully. He couldn’t. Not the way he was raised. “Don’t expect me to not defend the people I care about, the people I love--” 

“Don’t.” 

There she went again. He saw her whole body tense up when he said the word. Love. He had done it twice now, and both times she practically ran away screaming. He couldn’t deal with it, not right now. Not when she was acting like he didn’t have a stake in this either. 

Yesterday it was about her. Yesterday she had the right to be angry. But if she was going to act like him defending her, standing up for her, for everyone he loved and cared about, for what he believed was right, was wrong? He couldn’t do that. No matter how much he loved her. 

“Oh, fuck off.” He said, eloquently. “I did for you, Naz. But I didn’t just do it for you. You don’t get to act like I don’t care about this shit. You know me. You know I have people in my life I fucking love who are in the community and even if  _ you _ can’t understand why I did it, or  _ you _ didn’t want me too, I know they would’ve wanted me to. This isn’t just about you.” 

Naz shook her head again, pushing herself up off the desk. She began pacing around the office, arms crossed over her chest. Chris craned his neck around to see where she was standing behind him. He wondered if he had said too much. “I’m not going to apologize for standing up for what’s right.” He continued, anyway. “You can be mad at my actions, but I don’t regret them.”

She was looking off out the window when she spoke next. It was softer, less aggressive than before. “You’re an idiot, because now I can’t defend you.” She turned to face him. “What the fuck were you thinking?” 

He furrowed his brows. “I was thinking a prick just called someone I care about a slur, and I wasn’t about to sit on my hands and do nothing about it.” 

“You could’ve reported him.”    
“ _ You _ know better than most, that’s not a real solution.”

“But assault is?” She asked. “Christ, he’s probably going to fucking sue you.” 

“Then let him. He fucking deserved it.” 

“It was irrational and stupid.” 

“If you think I’m the type of man who doesn’t stand up for the people I care about…” He didn’t want to finish that sentence. He sighed. “I’m not. You know I’m not.”

Naz looked back at him and sighed. “I know.” 

She crossed the room again, her hand coming to his back and grazing his shoulders gently as she passed him. 

“I’m going to get Jackson.” She looked at Chris, intently. “Tell him the truth. If you don’t, Mackie or Kyle will. It’s better to get ahead of it.” 

“You’re not staying?” He asked, voice filled with worry. 

“No. When Jackson hears why he’ll want to have done this himself.” 

With that, she gave him a tight lipped smile, and left without another word. 

Seeing the door shut behind her, Chris felt an ache in his stomach. He was alone again, with his thoughts, his bubbling emotions and his fucking bag of frozen peas.

He knew this wasn’t over. 

But he wasn’t ready to find out how it ended. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments make my heart scream,,, as always thank u so much for being patient with me and pls pls pls tell me what you thought of this chapter!!! im always ready for the lovely feedback you all give me <3333


	24. UPDATE

HI FRIENDS! 

Just a quick update letting you know that I’m still here!! I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to get you guys an update, I’m actually just out of the country right now and have been for three weeks and wasn’t able to bring my laptop (it was a tragic reality, i know). So that’s all the hold up!! Next chapter is done and ready (just needs some final tweaks) but look for it July 24th 9pm MDT at the latest. I PROMISE. (it won’t be up until the 24th itself at least so don’t worry!) 

Thank you again for all the love!!!! it makes my heart very happy!!! And i’m soososo sorry for any false hope you guys got from this chapter addition hahahah. It’s why i didn’t want to do one! But just wanted to pop in and let u know i’m not abandoning her lol. Naz is too crazy not to have my assistance. ❤️❤️

a.


	25. the one with the impasse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS FINALLY HEREEEE (and 8 hours early)
> 
> im so sorry for this incredibly long wait before an update! but je suis ici maintenant and im ready to give you guys lots of updates!!!! 
> 
> part 2, back in naz's perspective  
> i hope you enjoy,,, because this one was an Effort
> 
> i wrote and edited most of this via my phone and my beta (bless her) was also working off mobile to get this done asap for me so pls also excuse any typos!!! i wanted it up asap and figured yall wouldnt mind

**PART TWO: NAZ**

Moments passed in Naz’s life where everything froze. Where, as corny as it sounded, the world really did stop. 

Except these moments didn’t disappear. They didn’t just exist in a vacuum where time stopped and every detail was hyper magnified. 

These snapshots, every detail understood, were instead, forever ingrained in her brain. She remembered everything. 

The moment she met Chris. 

The moment she knew he was her one. 

Every tiny detail, she remembered; from the taste of Chris’s skin to the feel of his stubble against her face, nothing went unnoticed. 

She remembered the moment she knew he would be impossible to forget. The bathroom in Vegas. The moment they shared in the hallway of her apartment. 

She remembered standing, shivering in the bathroom of the courthouse, feeling his arms around her and his voice in her ear, reassuring her she was going to be okay. 

These moments that once thrilled her, terrified her now. They existed as evidence of her weakness, pieces of herself she let so openly show. 

She wished she could forget them. Somehow shove them deep down, where she had so much unresolved. 

But instead, she made new moments. Ones that felt like additional chapters to everything she had built with Chris. 

Closing chapters. To everything, about to be unwound. 

Every moment was one of her moments, today. Everything felt raw. 

She felt the moments where everything fell apart; she felt them as they happened and bore every break. 

The day had been absolutely fucking exhausting. Naz tried to brace herself as she unlocked her apartment fumbling with her keys. She tried to ease her breathing, that familiar feeling of her insides churning had begun; something she recognized as her body’s way of dealing with the sheer uneasiness she had felt today. Ever since her conversation with Jackson just half an hour ago, she couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. 

She entered, dropping her purse at the door and tossing her keys down. Her thoughts were interrupted by a shuffle that came from the kitchen and her head snapped up. 

Chris was in her apartment, something she had not anticipated or prepared for. She needed time to compose herself.

Naz had always been short-tempered. She got irritated quick and snapped fast. It’s what necessitated her to take time, a lot of it, much to Chris’s chagrin. It usually resulted in shutting him out, or running across the country, but she needed that time to sort out her thoughts, before she burst and said something stupid. 

Chris in her kitchen, bustling around in an apron, was not, in fact, helping this matter. Her head throbbed.

“Hey,” He said, hearing her come in. He turned his neck to smile. It was a nervous smile, nothing like the usual bright-faced toothy grin he’d give her.

“Why are you here?” Naz said, softly. 

“Kira let me in. She just left for some work meeting.”

“Okay.”

“Speaking of—” He said, around a mouthful of green peppers “How did your meeting go?” 

Naz opened her mouth. 

Nothing came out. 

Chris shook his head, absently. “Look, don’t tell me yet. I’m almost done dinner.” He prodded something on the stove before turning away again. “I know you’re probably still pissed at me,” he added, nonchalantly “but we can talk over it.” 

“I don’t want to talk.” Naz said.

He pulled out two plates from the cabinet, not hearing her. “I made stir fry noodles—and I know, I know you’re going to say I need to use more chilli powder—but just try it first!”

“I’m not really hungry.” Naz said. 

Again, Chris didn’t register. “—I split the pan in half so I don’t have an acid reflux induced heart attack.” He continued. “Because you know I’m incapable of digesting anything with flavour—”

“Chris.” 

“So your side is thoroughly soaked with enough sriracha needed for the two of us—”

_ “Chris.” _

He turned away from the stove. “What’s wrong? Did something happen with Kyle?” His hand came up and tugged the apron off his chest, tossing down on the counter. Any playfulness in his voice from before was long gone. 

Naz braced herself again, before taking a deep breath. She tried again to open her mouth to just spit it out. Compel herself to have the conversation she never anticipated needing to do. 

Partly because she hadn’t even had the chance to process her decision herself. Let alone convey it to Chris. 

Explain why she was so conflicted, why everything that had happened was leading to this. 

She needed to spit out the two words that changed everything.

“I quit.” 

Chris blinked. “What?” He set down his cooking utensils, turned off the stove, and joined Naz at the entrance of the kitchen.

“I had no other choice.” She said, backing into the living room when he approached her. “It was either I quit or they had plans to transfer me to Georgia and take a pay cut. I wouldn’t be head of the department anymore.” 

“They can’t do that.” 

Naz sighed. “They can.”

“This can’t be about Kyle. Maybe it’s because filming was ending—”

“My contract was through next year beyond both Infinity War and Avengers 4 press.” 

His expression was pinched. “And Kyle…?” 

“He’s fine. As far as I know.” Naz said, coldly. She shoved past Chris, heading to her liquor cabinet. Pulling out a glass and her Jameson whiskey, she poured. Any second thoughts she had had about this conversation were washed away after the first sip. She swirled  the whiskey around the glass before speaking again. “He’ll probably return to work,” She said, with a mirthless laugh. “He’ll continue his contract, get away with everything he did because you don’t listen to me when I tell you to stay the fuck out of it.” 

“What?” Chris snapped.

“You heard me.”

“You’re seriously blaming me?” 

“Honestly? Yes.” 

“You’re insinuating that my punch caused all this shit with Kyle? He’s been like this for years. You told me that.”

Naz heaved a sigh, looking directly at him now.

“No, Chris. I’m not saying you’re somehow to blame for Kyle’s misogynistic, homophobic behaviour. I’m saying your actions necessitated my resignation.” She said. 

“Fuck that. I’ll talk to them—” 

“Don’t bother.” Naz said quickly. It’s my fault, really,” She downed some more of her whiskey and winced. “Letting you do this.” 

“Do what?” 

“Embolden your desperate need to save me.” 

“ _ Save _ you?” Chris snorted. He snatched the whiskey glass from Naz’s hand. “What the fuck are you talking about? 

“Yeah,  _ save _ me. Chris.” She shot back. “First, with the immigration ordeal, the screenplay, the tabloid fit and now punching Kyle.” 

“Wow.” He said, his jaw clenched. “Feels fucking great to know you keep a goddamn list.” 

“I’m not the only one.” She said. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

He laughed once, but his face immediately went blank again. “You’re wrong.” He said plainly, “You're not making any sense. You're acting fucking ridiculous.”

“Am I? Because it seems to me like the exact thing I worried about  _ just _ happened. You got emotionally invested and I have to deal with the consequences because of it.” 

“You're being a fucking dick.” His jaw was clenched and his eyes pierced her face. “If you think being your  _ friend _ first and then your boyfriend makes me have some weird saviour complex, that’s fucked up. I care about you. I stick up for you because I care.” 

Naz scoffed. “It’s interesting you bring up the weird “saviour complex” shit you have going on, or whatever it is that made you feel the need to take me on like a charity case--”

“Maybe if you weren't incapable of sustaining emotional attachments it wouldn't seem so bizarre.” He snarled.

“If you could just acknowledge that maybe I don't need you to do everything for me.” She bit back. 

He shook his head “You're blowing this Kyle shit way out of proportion.” 

“How!?” Naz said, exasperated. “I have to deal with the consequences because you thought you knew what was best for me.”

“So defending my girlfriend from some biphobic cunt makes me the bad guy?" He began to raise his voice. 

_ “No.”  _ Naz hissed. “Stop putting words in my mouth.”

“Then stop fucking  _ lying _ and talk to me.” He said through gritted teeth. 

“You fucking suffocate me. You don't even realize you do it. But I can't handle this.” 

Chris let out a cold laugh. “You're fucking kidding me.”

“I knew asking you to stay married was too much. I knew agreeing to start this…” Shaking her head, she started walking away from him. “Fuck I’m so stupid--” 

_ “Stop it.” _ Chris growled. “I get you're pissed. You have a right to be.” His hand caught her wrist and tugged her back to face him. “Stop running off. Fuck, okay, we have issues but if you keep running we’ll never deal with them.”

“Why do you act like we don’t have some  _ serious _ fucking issues we never talked about?” She eyed him, searching his face. “Like maybe marrying the person you fucked once is probably not the smartest decision either of us made? That  _ staying _ married was even worse?” 

“What else were you gonna do?” He asked. “Hop on a plane to Toronto and give up your life here when I could easily help? Since that constitutes ‘saving you’; being a decent fuckin’ human being and all.” 

“I would’ve managed.” Naz said, petulantly, irate he would suggest otherwise.

“I never said you couldn’t. You shouldn’t  _ have _ to manage, Naz. Not when you have people who love you—”

Naz groaned. “There you go again with the love shit!” She raised her voice, feeling herself fighting that same urge to cut and run from this conversation. 

“Oh fucking Christ, will you just accept that I love you!? I’ve conceded  _ you _ clearly aren’t there yet about me, but Jesus, just let me finish a fucking sentence.” 

“How the fuck is this love Chris? You barely know me.”

“I’ve known you for years.” He said, confidently. 

“You’ve known  _ of _ me for four years, you’ve  _ known _ me for two fucking months. This isn’t love. It’s infatuation and it’s going to pass.” 

“Right,” He laughed, patronizingly, “You act like know me so well, Naz, you’d think it wasn’t just  _ two _ months.” He was condescending her. “You know exactly how I  _ really _ feel, don’t you? I’m just a daft actor, something you so vehemently despised getting involved with, I might add, Kira told me—”

“Oh fuck off—”

“—And I’m  _ desperate _ to save my Canadian girlfriend, and it’s all for a giant fuckin’ power trip. Because that doesn’t sound ludicrous.” 

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so fucking melodramatic.”

“But that’s what you’re saying! You belittle it and you trivialize how I feel and you think it doesn’t hurt?”

“You don’t think it hurt, losing my job because you couldn’t control your fucking emotions? Get used to it, Chris, I’m called shit all the time it’s a fucking riot.” 

“Stop acting like you don’t care.” He said, shaking his heads “Like you’re some indifferent, heartless monster who doesn’t get upset or give a shit. Stop acting like—“

“Like what, Chris?” 

“Like Rosalie.” He finished. 

Naz flinched at the name. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Really? Then tell me I’m not wrong. Like you didn’t become the very thing you say you despise.”

“Don’t talk about shit you don’t understand.” 

Chris barked a laugh. “Right. Because we don’t do that in this relationship. We fuck and we pretend we don’t have emotions.” 

Naz scoffed. “Bullshit. We tried. I tried. And it didn't work. It's that simple.”

He was agitated now. “You ever think it's your complete fucking lack of emotion that makes me feel like I need to overcompensate everything?” 

Naz swallowed. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to respond in a way that would end this conversation without ending… everything. Bringing up Rosalie? She hadn’t seen it coming. And the fact he knew, terrified her. 

She had salvaged her dignity after Rosalie, and inched towards an acceptance of emotions, of love and sacrifice. It shook her to her core the very lengths she had gone with Rosalie, sacrificing herself, her health, her sanity, her emotional well-being. It nearly destroyed her.

There had been nothing left for her to do. Naz had spoke out, finally, after years of suppression. After years of pretending everything was okay. Had faced Rosalie, with her emotions on her sleeve. And Rosalie had shut her down. 

That moment ached. The moment she realized she had given up herself for someone who wasn’t worth that. 

The thought of doing that with Chris? Of letting go of her core beliefs, her own self, of everything she had fought for? The fear began to eat at her. Everything about Chris terrified her. The prospect of a future, of a life, of vulnerability, it had all seemed so impossibly far away just months ago. And it had all been inextricably tied to Rosalie.

“This isn’t about Rosalie.” She said. “This is about us.” 

“And somehow, inevitably, everything ends up being about Rosalie.” He said it with a twinge of sadness in his voice.

“What about the fact you saw Jenny last week and didn’t bother telling me?” 

That caught him off guard. “What?”

“Meenal told me. Max told her you guys had lunch.”

“Is that what this is all about? Jenny?”

“No, Chris it’s about everything. And Jenny is included in everything.”

“You know that’s over.”

“So you can bring up my ex and insinuate I’m somehow damaged goods because of her,” To be fair, Naz was, but she wasn’t about to admit it, “but I can’t be concerned you’re forcing everything on me so fast because you just desperately need to settle down?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I love you.”

“I’m not doing this—” Naz bristled.

“No, come on. Stop running off.” He rushed after her into the living room. “You’re trying to find a reason to end this! This isn’t about Kyle, or the immigration shit, Rosalie, Jenny or even me loving you—”

"Obviously!" Naz spat, and Chris reeled. “You think I  _ like _ being so fucking dependent? Physically, emotionally,  _ legally?  _ And you  _ suffocate _ me for it.” 

“Right.” His voice was going up again and Naz was unnerved. “So you're ending this because I suffocate you, but let's just ignore the fact you've refused to acknowledge this relationship from the beginning.” 

Naz crossed her arms, shaking her head. “Maybe this isn’t what we need.” 

Chris sighed. Leaning back against the wall he shook his head. “I’m not trying to save you. I’m not trying to change you. I’m not sitting here with some hidden agenda.” He continued, lowering his voice. “If you don’t want to do this, don’t beat around the bush. Tell me. Instead of running off to New York, fucking me into shutting up or ignoring me and my feelings, try just  _ spitting _ it out.” He took a deep breath. “If you don’t love me, Naz? If you don’t think you could ever love me? Tell me. I’d like to stop wasting my time.” 

Naz knew she couldn’t deny anything he had just said. But as they stood, at odds, an impasse where neither of them could see why the other was so angry. And with neither willing to budge. 

“I don’t know.” She said.

“What?”

“I think we need to re-evaluate everything.” 

“You’re scared.”

He was right. It was fear. It was the terrifying reality of everything collapsing. Of her, being vulnerable like that, compromising like she had, giving up pieces of herself.

She needed to be selfless, and tell him what he needed to hear to move on.

Otherwise he never would. And she wouldn’t forgive herself for it. Not after making him feel like shit for a decision she made.

She opened her mouth, dreading the consequences of the words she was about to say.

She stared at the floor. “Honestly, Chris?” She said, “I don’t think I can ever love you like you love me.” 

But no amount of fear or determination could’ve compelled her to swallow the expression she saw on his face. He looked at her like she had just ripped open his fucking stomach. 

He blinked. Averting his eyes he swallowed. 

“Okay.” He said. “Okay then. I’ll go.”

Chris grabbed his wallet from the counter and was nearing the door. 

He looked up once at her, his eyes soft. “We’re staying married.” He said sternly. “If you think I’m letting them deport you over this shit… I made a promise Naz, and I’m keeping it.” 

And without another word, he was out the door. 

Naz waited until she heard the door slam shut, to let herself sink to the ground, engulfed by a wrenching sob. 

—

**_Later_ **

_ Hey, you’ve reached Naz Dubey. Sorry I missed your call. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you ASAP. _

“Naz? Hey, it’s Jackson. Look, I know you’re not happy with me right now but I have some updates. Paperwork’s been approved, and the board’s decided not to fire Chris, considering your resignation. I know it’s fucked up that they wanted to fire him, considering it was Bradshaw who instigated, but you know politics. Chris would’ve been a bigger scandal, larger press… 

I do really wish you would take the job in Georgia, though, but I get why you quit. You love him and you didn’t want to see his reputation suffer, even if that meant bowing out. And I know, it’s not what you wanna hear, but I’m sorry I can’t do more about Bradshaw right now. I’ll do my best to make his life a living hell here, that’s for sure. Shit, though, the fact that you threw your neck out for Chris took fuckin’ guts and I admire you for that. And, yes, like I promised, I won’t tell Chris you quit for him, and I hope we can be friends again at some point. Call me if you’re ever up for coffee— Oh! And good luck on your writing. You’ll kill it.”  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAA 
> 
> im so sorry for this tbh,,, but it was necessary. yall mustve seen it coming!! as always comments make me sososoosso happy,,, and as always thank u so much for being so supportive and patient with me!! and I will write as quickly as possible to get at least 2 updates up before the end of August. 
> 
> thank u so much for this journey so far and im excited to see what you guys think of this story in the next coming chapters!!!!
> 
> sept 11 edit:
> 
> i’m currently editing the next chapter! i’m so sorry for not having it up sooner but look for it in the next 3-4 days! i’m just waiting on my angelic beta to give me the go ahead


	26. the one with nazanin and ankira

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my GOD im so sorry this chapter took so long. i really wrestled with how i wanted to approach in and ended up with a real blend. i debated on maybe splitting it into 2 chapters but i figured yall would appreciate 5000 words since i was the worst and didnt update last month. im pretty proud of how this turned out so here u gooooo!!! thank you so much for all the kind words and your patience i really appreciate it <3 
> 
> now its back to academic readings for me lol.
> 
> tw: implied excessive drinking  
> also, pls forgive any typos. i wanted to get this up asap so i may have stopped giving a shit to proof read

**_THEN:_ **

_The door to Naz’s bedroom creaked open, revealing Kira on the other side. She gently tiptoed past Fugue on his perch, to the bed. She sat on the edge, tentatively lifting the covers to find Naz._

_Naz guessed her eyes must’ve looked like hell, because Kira let out a short breath._

_“Hey…” She said, softly. “What happened?”_

_Naz simply sighed, before bursting into a stupid fit of tears and shoving her head in the pillow beside her._

**_NOW: THREE MONTHS LATER:_ **

**_Wedding Countdown: 26 Days_ **

Water streamed down Naz’s face. She stared at the shower wall, hearing her thoughts rattle noisily in her brain; trying to formulate a cohesive idea. She thought best in the shower—did her best work and brainstorming. It had been something she had done for as long as she could remember. But now, it was all while using a tragic amount of the greater Los Angeles’s hot water.

She jumped slightly when the door to the shower opened and a pair of arms encircled her waist.

“Sorry.” Chris mumbled, lips brushing against her shoulder. “Were you brainstorming?”

“Yes.” She leaned back into his chest, before spinning around. “But it wasn’t working so I’m glad you’re here to distract me.”

“That I can do.” His fingers eased their way down to her core, tracing little circles. “Might as well make use of your terrible water habits.”

“Save the planet, clean up with a buddy?”

Chris smirked. “Not sure how clean we’re going to be getting…” His hands travelled lower and Naz felt herself trying to suppress a moan.

Instead, she awoke with a start, breathing heavy.

The irritating sound of Fugue’s chirping echoing through the apartment. She groaned, running a hand over her face, feeling the sweat bead at her temples. She sat upright and squinted at the light forcing its way through the blinds before throwing an arm out to check the time on her phone. After knocking over an empty glass, a bottle of advil and a tub of lotion, she grasped the device and blinked.

9:42 AM.

She huffed. Nearly ten in the morning on a Monday. She couldn’t help but feel a little useless. Ever since quitting her job with Marvel, her schedule had been more or less erratic.

Lately she attempted to keep herself busy writing, shoving the intrusive thoughts of Chris and his penis far from her prerogative. But managing that under a disgusting bout of writer's block proved to be incredibly difficult.

As a result, she found other ways to keep herself occupied, without which she knew she would go crazy.

This thought led her to peer across the bed at the body taking up a significant portion of her bed.

His name was Curt. Potentially Chad. She couldn’t remember. But he was incredibly pretty and she had needed a fuck.

She could’ve used the fuck right now, practically speaking. Her core ached. She was left high and dry in that stupid dream, not unlike Chris had done time and time again to tease her when they were together.

Fugue’s chirping ruined the mood, leaving Naz horny and irritated.

She shoved the covers off her body and clambered out of the bed. Staring at the pale and freckled back of her latest conquest she crossed her arms and glared.

If she couldn’t rest in peace, no one could.

In one swift motion, she pulled the blanket out from under him, sending his naked body flying off the bed. He jolted upright, letting out a shriek. “What the fuck!”

“Up.”

He rubbed his head, groaning as he stood up. “Aren’t you a peach in the morning.” He had a low vibrato to his voice she forgot about. It made her head buzz. His hair was squashed down but he looked as pretty as ever.

But she had a deadline. And self-employment required discipline.

“You gotta go.” Naz said, tying her robe around her waist and adjusting the bedsheets.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah. Really. It’s been nice, Chad.”

“Chace.”

Naz blinked at him, her perpetual look of disdain boring into his soul.

He swallowed. “Chad’s fine.”

“Great.”

Fugue continued his morning pestering, drawing Naz’s attention away from Chace, apparently, who was now dressing himself.

“Cute bird.” He remarked, pulling up his jeans.

“His name’s Fugue. You might wanna watch out.” She added, quickly, seeing Chace walk over to Fugue’s perch at the footboard. “He bites. And he's a bit of a misandrist.”

“No way, he’s too cute–” Chace wagged a finger in front of Fugue’s face, receiving a prompt snap. “Ouch! Fuck.”

Naz rolled her eyes. “Yeah.”

Chace shook his head. “I guess I should’ve seen that coming.”

Fugue stopped chirping, intriguing enough. Naz assumed he just needed to piss off her latest house guest. He wasn’t a fan of strays.

“So what gig doesn’t start until at least 10 in the morning and grabs you a place in Hollywood Hills?

“I’m… In between… Situations.” Naz said, carefully.

“Is it a pyramid scheme, because honestly, I’m in.”

She looked Chace up and down. “You don’t have anywhere to be? Pegged you for the lawyer type. Or a journalist of some sort, considering the amount of questions you ask.”

He looked amused by this. “No. I’m an actor.”

Naz scoffed. “Of course you are.”

“What?” Chace asked. “Not a fan of actors?”

“Not particularly.” She lied. “I just have history.”

“Sounds like there’s a story there.” He said, buttoning up his shirt. “You wanna grab breakfast and enlighten me?”

This caught her by surprise. Sure, he had been talkative the night before, but Naz definitely was not. She swallowed. “Look…” She paused. “Chace…?” He nodded. “You seem like a nice guy. But I’m not interested.”

“No worries,” He shrugged, following Naz out of her bedroom into the living room.

“Morning, sunshine.” Kira chirped, sounding all too much like Fugue. She sat on the sofa with a bowl of Froot Loops in hand, looking over _the_ _Times_ absently. She looked up from her Froot Loops and raised a brow at Chace. “Sunshine’s one night stand.”

Chace gave Kira a curt nod before heading for the door. “Hey. If you change your mind. You know my number.” He said, smirking. Naz pursed her lips.

“Yeah, totally.”

He leaned down, capturing her lips in kiss much too obscene to occur in her living room. “Or in case you don’t want to talk. I’m fine with that too.”

Naz blinked, prodding him off. Giving Chace a tight lipped smile she shut the door behind him.

Kira whistled.

“Fuck off.” Naz said. She headed to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee.

“I’m just saying. Old Naz is back.”

“You mean whore Naz?”

“More or less.”

Naz slumped down on the sofa next to Kira. “What’s going on now with the indictments?” She said, hovering over the paper. Naz’s intent was to distract her, and politics was Kira’s kryptonite.

“There’s been another one.” Kira said happily. She pointed at the front page.

“He’s so fucked.” Naz remarked, sipping her coffee.

Kira shook her head. “Not as long as there’s a red Senate and House.”

“You don’t think they’ll indict him? Even for treason?”

“Not particularly. Partisanship is crazy. But I’m also a cynic, I suppose.”

“Isn’t that warranted? It’s not like you enjoy being a cynic.”

“True. But I’m also supposed to instill hope in my students except all of them can’t get simple constitutional politics drilled in their idealistic brains.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with idealism.”

“I found that so surprising,” Kira said, sarcastically, “considering you now write romantic comedies for a living.”

“Since when do you read the physical newspaper.” Naz questioned, deflecting.

“Since the free press has been under attack.” Kira sighed. “God, I wish I could vote.”

“You and me both, bitch.” Naz sighed. “At least your student visa’s fine. I’m basically in fucked limbo.”

“You still haven’t heard from Callaghan?”

“No.”

“...Or Chris?” Kira said, carefully.

Naz glared. “Aside from the wet dream I just had about him? No.”

“This conversation got too sad for first thing in the morning.”

“It’s 10am.”

“Same thing.”

“Sure.”

Kira set down the paper. “So… Nate Archibald? I’d say this is your new peak.” She said.

“Who?” Naz furrowed a brow.

“You didn’t…” Kira said, hesitantly. “Wait didn’t you know he was…?” She pointed at the doorway through which Chace had left moments ago.

“Was I supposed to? He said he was an actor. Naturally, with my luck.”

“You seriously don’t know who he is?”

“No, Kira, are you about to tell me or just sit there gaping?”

“You know what? Nothing. You’re the worst.”

Naz shrugged. “Are you reading the paper to procrastinate your thesis proposal?”

“Are you asking me about my thesis to avoid writing your rom-com?” Kira challenged.

Naz rolled her eyes. “So what if I am?”

“My thesis sucks, if that makes you feel better.” She offered.

“It does, thank you.”

“And your writing…?”

“It would be better if someone stabbed me in the eye with a fork.”  Naz said, crudely. “And now I’m off track because of my weakness for pretty men with stubble and deep voices.”   
“Was he at least good? He looked like he’d be good.”

“It was fine.”

“That’s incredibly disappointing.” Kira admitted.

“I can tell you’re just distraught.”

“Truthfully, I’ve never seen you plow through so many partners in such a short period of time.”

“Thanks, Kira.”

“Ever since I moved in I’d like to think I’ve been a good influence on you. And that godforsaken bird.”

“Maybe I need a new pet. A possum or a ferret. Will that revive my creative death trap?”

Kira blinked. “Disregarding the fact you want a possum as a pet, don’t feel bad about it.” She looked around, a disgusted expression on her face. “This apartment is where creative ideas come to die. I’ve been working on my thesis since I moved in and nothing’s coming out. And I’m a genius.”

“Don’t forget, you’re incredibly humble.”

“Maybe try a jog? Or something that normal people do.” Kira shrugged.

“My agent told me to go to a bar.”

“I’m down.”

“No. I’ve had enough of that shit. I just need to talk to someone who gets it. Someone level headed. Collected.”

“I am right here.”

“Funny. Now, hurry up. We’re late for Meenal’s.”

Kira looked concerned. “If you’re looking at Meenal to do anything aside from plan her two weddings right now…”

“She’s got this.” Naz insisted. “Right?”

—

“No! I said peonies, not pansies! Who the fuck gets married with pansies? Yes, Juliet, rose petals for the pathway, and seven, yes I did say seven, bags for the ceremony. No, I ordered white and light pink, not assorted. We went over this months ago! No, I needed the _non-flammable_ curtains in _beige_ _white_ , not _off_ beige, the off beige curtains are for the civil ceremony.”

“Meens did you need us to do anything—”

“Shh!”

With the wedding in under a month, Meenal was going absolutely wild. As a result, Naz, Kira and Nicole had accompanied her to temple after temple, desperate to find the right priest. However, midway through conversation, Meenal’s phone rang. Apparently there had been a shipping error with flowers. And curtains. And everything in between.

Any hope Naz had to talk to her friend was gone. Kira had given her a look that said “you thought I was the crazy one” and sat triumphantly in the corner of the temple hall.

“Naz, call your mom— I need her contact for the mendhi artist.”

“Must I?” Naz and her mother hadn’t quite been on the best of terms. Ever since Naz instructed Kira not to breathe a word about the immigration ordeal, Naz could tell her mother knew she was hiding something.

So she avoided her at all costs.

Meenal glowered.

“Okay… Don’t kill me, fuck.”

“Hey, chup!” Meenal’s mother, Geetha, an over enthusiastic British-Indian woman of her 60s, chastised Naz. “We’re in a temple. Watch your language.”

“Sorry, Aunty.”

“Never mind, never mind. You know what—” She turned to Kira. “Ankira, beti, you call your mother.” Kira seemed to be slightly startled.

“Oof.” Naz remarked. “Full name.”

“I’m terrified.” Kira muttered.

Turning back to Naz with a frown she sighed. “Nazanin, you’re still frolicking around with Max’s best man, Christopher, right?”

“Mom—” Meenal tried to cut in. “Leave Naz alone.”

While the public still needed to be under the impression Chris and Naz were together, Meenal knew better.

“Frolicking is an interesting way to put it.” Naz said, thoughtfully. The last she had seen of Chris was when she went to clear her office.

He had watched her from across the set, looking away when she made eye contact with him. She had hoped to say goodbye to a few people on set, but determined it wasn’t worth the stares or questions.

She would be lying if she didn’t admit it hurt like a bitch to see him again. That night he left her apartment had been the hardest. She cried for what felt like ages, attempting to stop when Kira and Michael had stumbled in closer to two in the morning.

But there was no point. Despite how everything had essentially been her doing, she couldn’t help but feel utterly broken.

Geetha’s shrill voice pulled Naz out of her thoughts.

“He left half of his shalwar here.” She said, holding up the traditional Indian dress for the ceremony. “Would you bring this to him?” She tossed Naz the top portion of a beige coloured shalwar kameez. Naz snorted. Naturally, Chris had taken the pants and left.

“Naz, you don’t have to.” Meenal noted. She gave her a tensed look.

“What do you mean she doesn’t have to?” Geetha berated “Nazanin, sweetheart, you don’t mind do you?”

Naz grimaced, but the look on Geetha’s face told her to suck it up.

“No, not at all.”

“Excellent.”

—

**_THEN:_ **

_“I can take the suite down the hall. They’re renting—”_

_“Don’t be stupid.” Naz insisted. “I have an extra room.”_

_“I know,” Kira relented. “I just feel like I’m imposing,”_

_“You’re a terrible liar.”_

_“You haven’t got off that couch in a week. The Swan Princess has been on repeat for two weeks. I’m this close to calling our mother.”_

_“What does that have to do with you moving in?”_

_“I don’t plan on mom-ing you.”_

_Naz scoffed. “I don’t need to be mom-ed.”_

_“You’re taking this break up with Chris a lot harder than I’ve ever seen you take one.”_

_Naz winced hearing his name. She grabbed the wine glass from the coffee table and downed it. “That’s because I broke up with my job at the same time.” She rebuffed, feigning an even tone of voice._

_“Right.” Kira grimaced. “But… you’re sure you don’t need space?”_

_“As irritating as you are, I’m good.” Naz said. She would never admit she needed Kira around. “Besides. You practically live here anyway.”_

—

**_NOW:_ **

Truthfully, she hadn’t anticipated being over at his house so soon. Practically speaking her and Chris communicated any necessary information briefly; preferably without any physical contact. Which definitely led to their text messages looking magnificently depressing. But both of them had decided space was desperately needed. Or at least, for Naz, it was.

She felt her nerves bubble up in her stomach, anxiously building up the courage to ring the doorbell. Naz clutched the suit top in her hand, her thumb absently running over the linen fabric. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she reached forward and pushed the button.

The chime was loud, echoing through the house and setting off a bark. While her intentions had never been calculated, in this moment, it felt like the worst consequence of their break up was how much she missed Dodger.

Naz watched through the frosted glass, foot tapping, as a figure approached the door.

The door opened a moment later revealing a topless Chris on the other side, the baggy pants of the shalwar already fitted.

She had not anticipated this either.

He looked a lot less like Steve Rogers than the last time she had seen him. His body didn’t look nearly as huge, and his chest hair was back. He looked beautiful. And refreshingly human. She swallowed, trying not to eye fuck him on spot. 

He made a face when he saw her. She couldn’t discern of it was excitement or irritation. He had cut his hair, the short fluffy mess atop his head, combined with a generous smattering of scruff, softened his features.

“Hey.” He said, slowly. The door remained slightly ajar, Chris’s body preventing Naz from seeing anything further into the house.

She heard Dodger sniff exasperatedly from between Chris’s legs.

“Sorry,” She said immediately. She wasn’t quite sure what for. Showing up at his house without notice? Dumping him because she was emotionally unavailable and terrified? Losing the right to see him naked, and then, seeing him so gorgeously naked in front of her? She just knew she needed to say it. He could take whatever he wanted from that. “Geetha hounded me to get this to you.”

She reached out, more tentatively than necessary, handing him the top.

“What is it?”

“The important half of what you’re supposed to be wearing.”

“I probably need this.” He scoffed. “Was beginning to find this a little too liberal considering the ceremonial context.”

“It could be a look. Very genie, but paler.”

He shot her a half smile. “God, I’m a dick, come in. Have a drink.”

“No it’s alright. I should go.”

At this point, Dodger had become fed up with Chris blockading him inside, and shoved sharply between Chris’s legs, causing a yelp. “Okay! Okay, Dodge, fuck’s sake.”

“If he’s insistent I will.” Naz relented. She lowered her voice, determined not to lose her reserve. “I missed him.” She said, staring at Dodger. “Hi, buddy!”

“He missed you too.” Chris said, “Must be why he’s acting like a brat.”

“That’s makes two of us.

—

**_THEN:_ **

_The bottles clattered across the floor as Kira stepped into the apartment. She made an audible groan and hastened to pick them up. Naz heard her, despite her efforts to silence the glass that tumbled away into the living room._

_“Can you not be so goddamn loud?” An afghan was tugged tightly over Naz’s head, shielding her state as a perpetual stain on the living room couch._

_“Maybe if you took your shit out once in a while, I wouldn’t trip over the empty liquor store by your doorstep.”_

_“Fuck off.”_

—

**_NOW:_ **

“Can I get you anything?” Chris asked, returning from changing. He wore a t-shirt and jeans now, helping Naz’s distractions ever so slightly since his torso was clothed. “Water, juice, wine? I have some disgusting muscle milk if that’s your vice.”

Naz smiled. “Nah, I’m okay. Thanks though.”

Chris pulled a beer out of the fridge and gestured to the sofa. “Don’t make this awkward, tiger, we’re still married.”

Naz gnawed at her bottom lip. “You’re…” She hesitated. “You’re not mad at me?”

He slumped down on the sofa and Naz followed, picking the loveseat across from him.

Chris sipped his beer. He thought for a minute. “No. I mean, I was hurt. I don’t think the normal person enjoys rejection very much.”

She could hear the hurt in his voice. She nodded, absently petting Dodger who was nestled at her feet.

“But you were honest.” He continued. “And that’s what I had been begging you to do for months. So I can’t be mad at you for that.”

“Yeah.”

She hadn’t been honest, but he wasn't mad at her which was not anticipated, so she screwed her mouth shut.

“If I ask you about work will you be mad at me?” He said.

Naz shook her head. “Honestly. I had a lot of time to deal with what went down.” She sighed. “I’m working with an agent on a screenplay.”

Chris raised a brow. “Really?”

“Yeah, don’t sound so condescending.”

“No, no-- I’m not.” He said quickly. “I’m surprised, to be honest. I thought I fucked that up for you.”

“You  didn’t.”

There was an awkward pause. “Is it the screenplay I read?” He asked.

Naz hesitated. “No. I tried that one. My agent sent it out but fourteen rejection letters in I couldn’t deal with the amount of pressure on that work. It felt so personal.”

“That’s the fucking worst. This industry can do that. I know when I go in for auditions and I feel like I really conveyed an emotional performance, getting shut down feels so…” He motioned his hands around a bit. “Miserable.”

“Tell me about it.”

“But don’t let it stop your creative process. Shit’ll fall into place, it just takes time and a kickstart.”

“Apparently they didn’t hate my writing, though. Which I found hilarious. They didn’t think my characters were relatable enough to fit into the romantic comedy genre.”

“What do you mean?”

“Most are uncomfortable with my stipulation I want a POC led cast.” She said, blandly. “They don’t say it in so many words but it's clear when I’m repeatedly told to make my characters more _palatable_ to the genre.”

Chris snorted. “Of course.” He sipped his beer. “Are they not aware the genre is dying…? People are tired of the same regurgitated story. Your work had spunk.”

“Thanks.” She scoffed. “It feels good to hear that.”

“You said you’re working on a screenplay, though. Did you take them up on essentially white-washing your story?”

“No. Fuck no,” Naz laughed. “My agent got me a gig to rewrite another script, but I need to come up with a new ending.” She opened her mouth to tell him what it was about. That it had been a blessing, some weird alignment of the universe leading to a gorgeous script about two women from across the world falling in love. “Come to think of it…” She paused, shaking her head. “No…”

“What?”

“You can’t be this naive.” Her body shifted from its once pleasant demeanour. She glared at him.

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate.” He said.

Naz shrugged. “Fine. What was the film you were picking up to direct?”

“Which?”

“The gay love story.”

He chuckled, his eyebrows doing that stupid quirk as he looked away. “I think the working name is _Letters to Venus._ ”

Naz’s heart dropped. “Yeah. I thought so.”

“Why?”

“That’s the rewrite I’m doing.”

“No way.” He said it with enough conviction she could’ve been fooled.

But he was a good fucking actor. She supposed that’s why he didn’t pick up another day job.

She thought for a moment. She was a newbie to the industry. Without a single screenplay on her resume except fourteen rejection letters with her address attached. There was absolutely no possible way this would’ve just landed in her lap.

She groaned, feeling the gears in her brain click. “You recommended me.” It had meant to come off as more of an accusation, but Naz was tired.

Chris looked a little taken aback. “What?”

“Don’t bullshit. I’m not mad. Well, I’m pissed, really, but I’ve spent too much energy being mad at you. There’s no way I just _happen_ to be working on the same script you’re acquiring.”

He blinked, “You’re not gonna bite my head off?”

“Just be honest with me.”

“I… just told the producer to check out your work via your rep.” He said, hesitantly getting up to head back to the kitchen. It was a good idea, Naz was fighting the urge to throw something at him.

“And you knew who was repping me… how, exactly?”

“I never reveal my sources.”

“Don’t be cute.”

He made a face, “I cannot control that.”

Naz rolled her eyes.

“Michael.” He conceded. “We had a party for work.”

“Fuckin’ Michael.”

“Don’t be mad at him, alright? It was me who asked.”

“Oh, trust me, I figured as much.” Naz shook her head. “I feel stupid. I should’ve known. In my defense, your name isn’t attached to it yet.”

“Yeah, I’m waiting on the rewrite.” He looked up at her. “Wait. What? Would you not have taken it if it were me?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Chris shook his head. “I’ve seen your writing. I have no doubt it’ll be phenomenal. That’s why I recommended you.” He sighed. “You would’ve really given up such a major job just because I was attached?”

Naz scoffed. “History would prove we don’t work well together.”

“I thought we worked great.”

Naz rebuffed. “Not the point.”

“Whatever.” His posture stiffened. He looked up and out through the window.

“You’re not pissed at _me_ , now, are you?” She said in disbelief.

“I don’t know.”

She got up from the sofa and made her way to the kitchen. “I know you’re not expecting a thank you.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “That’s correct.” He leaned up against the counter, jaw tense.

“Are you gonna call me patronizing if I said it?”

His head snapped up. “Huh?”

She sighed. “I guess you owed me. From the Marvel shit. So, you needed a rewrite for a story you knew I would love. Threw my name into the mix and the producer reached out to my agent. It was sweet.” She bit her lip. “As much as I want to be angry at you, I’m not an idiot. So thanks.”

“Yeah, not gonna lie, I expected an argument.” He breathed out a laugh.

“Well. Unemployment, Christopher.”

“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “For how everything went down.”

“It wasn’t just your fault. We didn’t work.”

He went to argue but closed his mouth a second later.

“I miss you.” He said.

She frowned.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?” Naz said.

“Make that face.”

“It’s just my face.”

He snorted. “You’re funny. You’re a funny girl. Has anyone told you to write fuckin’ comedy?”

“You know my dream is to be the next Colbert.”

“Nah. He’s too hot. You couldn’t compete.”

Naz feigned offense. “Dick.”

“Speaking of…” He said crudely, a smirk playing up on his lips. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Hilarious. Seriously.”

“Is the deflection a yes?”

“No.” Naz said, a little too quickly. “I’ve kept myself busy, but no, not seriously.”

“Gotcha.”

“And you?”

His fingers came around to her hip, lifting the tank top she was wearing ever so slightly so his thumb grazed her skin. “I said I missed _you_.”

Naz sighed, feeling her body turn towards him. “Chris…”

“Yes.” His hand came up to her face and brushed her jaw.

She wanted to tell him to kiss her. That everything was fixed now. They could try again, despite how everything went down. She wanted to tell him she missed him too. That now she was happy, and everything made sense.

She wanted to tell him she just needed time. And three months without him felt like someone had punched her in the face.

She opened her mouth to speak, pulling him closer.

A persistent buzzing snapped Naz out of her thoughts. It was coming from Chris’s pocket.

“Please tell me that’s just a vibrator.”

Chris snorted. “Sorry.” He said, shaking his head. “It’s my agent. I have to take this. Just...” He paused. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

“No worries.” Naz breathed.

She felt herself slump back against the counter, breathing deeply. She tried to calm her heart rate. What was she thinking? She was the one who decided to end it, after all. Chris still didn’t know the real reason she quit.

God, everything was a mess.

And it wasn’t like her immigration status had been confirmed either.

Absolutely nothing had really changed. And here she was, practically in heat, rubbing up against his leg in his kitchen.  
She cursed under her breath. Old fucking habits.

He returned a moment later, his forehead creased with anxiety.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. “You look like you did when I told you Brady was a Trump supporter.”

Chris frowned. “I need to be in New York tonight.”

“What for?”

“You remember the Broadway show I’m doing?” Naz nodded. “They want to run through rehearsals once before Tripp, the director, heads out of the country for three weeks.”

“Shit. Are you working?”

“No, I’m off, but fuck…” He looked around, frantic.

“What’s up?”

“Dodge. I can’t go right now. My mom’s in London with Carly and Shanna, and Scott’s doing a movie in Atlanta.”

“How long do they need you?”

“Four days. I’ll have to tell them I can’t.”

Naz shook her head. “No, don’t be stupid. I can watch Dodger.”

Chris looked confused. “What? No, I couldn’t ask that of you, Naz. You wanted space.”

“Yeah, and I had it.”

“You apartment can’t have pets.”

“Fugue.”

“Is a fugitive.” He said, matter-of-factly. “I remember the fire escape episode.”

Chris had been over one night when Naz’s landlord decided to do an inspection. Apparently there had been a noise complaint, resulting in poor Fugue having to hang out in his cage on the fire escape—with Chris in his boxers—for the better part of an hour.

“Okay…” Naz conceded. “So, I’ll housesit.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.”

“What about Fugue?”

Naz shrugged. “Kira moved in.”

Chris raised a brow. “Really?”

“Yeah. So don’t worry about Fugue. And stop making up excuses. I’ll go grab some shit and be back over here in a couple hours.”

Chris seemed to relax immensely at this. “Jesus.” He said. “I owe you.”

Naz shook her head. “Don’t make this awkward, hubby.”

He smirked. “Never.”

—

**_THEN:_ **

_“Am I a horrible person?”_

_“Yes.”_

_Naz threw a pillow at Kira’s head._

_“I’m kidding. No.”_

_Nas swallowed. She stared up at the ceiling. “I lied to him. I straight up told him to his face I didn’t love him. Who does that?”_

_Kira thought for a moment. “I think you told him you love him.”_

_“Don’t be ridiculous.”_

_“You risked everything for his reputation. Gave it up in a heartbeat.”_

_Naz shook her head. “It wasn’t that deep. And it was a lot more complicated. And, I swear if you tell him, or Michael tells him--”_

_“Seriously, I think you told him you loved him, in the way that made sense to you.”_

_“So, no sense at all.”_

_“Love isn’t supposed to make sense.”_

_“That’s an excuse shitty people use.”_

_“I don’t think what you did was shitty.”_

_Naz sighed. “Thanks, Kira.”_

_“But you could use this as your chance to change all the shitty things you’ve compiled in your life.”_

_“So, everything.” Naz scoffed._

_“Pretty much.” Kira smiled. “And I’m here. You know, as support, or whatever. Whenever you need.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading friends!!!! as always, comments help motivate me to write faster and I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter! i really had a million different ideas coming for this one, and hopefully can get them written down for the next few chapters soon! 
> 
> lastly, thank u to my angelic beta whomst is currently also in school w me and somehow still managed to find time to edit for me. u guys. shes the best u dont understand. 
> 
> also, lol if u didnt know, the dude naz slept with was chace crawford

**Author's Note:**

> leaving comments helps motivate me to write faster/more thanx luv u  
> or u can send me an ask here  
> verycoldbear.tumblr.com/ask


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